


Little Things

by hakanaii



Series: Balancing Equations outtakes [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Gen, Noah Odair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 34,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakanaii/pseuds/hakanaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These little things, it is you they add up to. A series of drabbles with focus on Finnick, Annie, his son (Noah) and their friends as they experience the ups and downs of parenting and each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Skating Date (Odesta)

**Author's Note:**

> These are mostly character studies, the way my characters are depicted here may not be the way they are permanently portrayed. Feedback is helpful during this process :) If something doesn't work in one of my characters, please let me know!

“Annie really, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Sure it is!”

“No really, Annie. It’s not a good idea. Water is for drinking, swimming in or to be sprayed at people on a hot day. Not to be frozen over so that people can take these boots with blades on them and cut across the thin ice at alarming speeds. It’s dangerous! Deadly even!”

Annie stands up, coming a few inches short from meeting Finnick eye to eye. “Don’t act stupid with me. You know these are called skates and you know that you’re not going to get hurt. So stop being be uncooperative and put them on.”

Finnick wrinkles his nose at her, “You can’t guarantee that.”

Annie rolls her eyes. “I’ve been skating since I was four and competed until I was seventeen. I think I know how to skate well enough that I guarantee your safety.”

Finnick gives her a look full of skepticism.

“Odair, if you don’t put the freaking skates on right now I will,” Gale shouts from behind the plexiglass boards. “You know what that means, I get to hold Annie’s pretty hands and have her undivided attention.”

Finnick shoots him a look as Madge smacks Gale upside the head. Johanna bumps his outstretched fist with her free hand.

Looking back down at the evil contraptions that are skates, Finnick sighs. If only he could remember how Annie taught him how to lace them.


	2. Three in the Afternoon (Odesta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah wonders why his Dad and Annie are still in bed

 

“Nice work today, Noah. I’m very proud of you,” his hockey coach tells him upon pulling up into his drive way. “If you keep up the good work, when we start playing games, I’ll put you as center.”

The ten year old's face lights up. “I can’t wait!” he says as his hands fumble with the seat belt. Pushing aside his shaking hands, Clove releases Noah from his hold with a smile.  He smiles back.

“Thank you very much for the ride, Mr. Alexander. I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Clove,” Noah waves as he hops out of the car and runs to the trunk to grab his hockey bag.

“You’re very welcome,” Mr. Alexander answers while taking the bag out of the car and hands it to the boy.

With the bulky bag around his shoulder, Noah climbs the steps two at a time. Taking his key out of his pocket, the boy opens door and walks into a silent, empty looking house. Noah frowns. Dad and Annie should have been home from lunch by now.

Walking further into the house, he picks up on the low murmurs filtering out from behind his Dad’s and Annie’s room. Their voices mix with other distorted voices that Noah doesn’t recognize. So he knocks on the door.

“Dad? Annie? Can I come in?”

Noah can hear them shuffling in the room before his Dad’s voice gives him permission to come in. Once he opens the door, he is shocked to see them lying there with Annie snuggled up against his half-naked father. It is as if they went right back to bed after lunch.

“Hey, kiddo. How’d practice go?” Finnick asks with a smile as he twirls a lock of Annie’s hair around his finger.

“Good. Coach said I get to play center for our first game.”

“That’s fantastic, Noah! We’re very proud of you, even if your father doesn’t know what ‘playing center’ means,” Annie teases and pokes Finnick in the side, causing him to jump as he shoots her a look.

“I do too! I was paying attention when you and Johanna crash coursed me,” he protests. Annie giggles as she leans up and kisses him just below the jaw. Noah stares at them blankly.

“Why are you guys in bed at 3 o’clock in the afternoon?” He asks bluntly.

The adults exchange a long, soulful look before Finnick meets Annie half way into a kiss.

“Ew, gross!”

Finnick laughs, “It’s just a kiss. You give girls kisses all the time.”

“Yeah, on the cheek. But you’re my dad, I don’t wanna see you kiss your girlfriend on the lips,” Noah wrinkles my nose. Finnick shrugs as Annie pulls away from him and pats the space between them for Noah to join them in bed. Crawling up onto the Queen sized mattress, Noah fits perfectly into the space Annie made for him.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re in bed with no clothes in the middle of the afternoon.”

“It’s Sunday, can’t we be lazy?” Finnick asks, running a hand through his son’s sweaty, brown hair. Noah frowns, swatting his father’s hand away.  

“No clothes _and_ you’re wearing your glasses; you never wear your glasses.”

“You shouldn’t make absolute statements, Noah,” Annie warns. “Your father does wear his glasses … on occasion.”

“Mostly when you ask me to, thought,” Finnick smirks at Annie but Noah blocks them before his father can kiss her again.

“Ugh! Enough with the kissing, I think I’m going to puke,” the boy’s noise wrinkles again as he pretends to gag. Finnick and Annie laugh as they run their hands through boy’s hair.

“We love you, you know that right?” Annie says, as she mops away the sweat on the back of his neck with a Kleenex.

“Yeah?” Noah raises an eyebrow at her. “And I love you guys too. Is there something wrong? Is someone dying? Oh, wait! Annie’s having a baby isn’t she? It’s okay y’know, I’m not going to get jealous if you have to pay more attention to it than me.”

Finnick’s euphoric smile drops as his face grows pale.  Shaking his head, Annie intertwines their hands in Noah’s lap, “Nothing like that,” she laughs lightly. “You father and I … we are going to get married.”

 Noah blinks once, twice then three times before his entire face lights up and he screams in delight. He throws his arms around Annie, first, before kissing his father and holding onto him. The sheer thrill and excitement of having Annie as his mom distracts Noah from his previous questions.

It isn’t until he is thirteen that he figures out what his parents were doing in bed that afternoon.


	3. Frisky (Odesta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's age everyone four years

"I feel really weird about this, I think we should put on some clothes or something. A robe at the very least."

Finnick sighs, "He's not coming home. Noah's on a date. He took some girl to the movies."

"Some girl? Really? Your son goes on his first date and you have no idea who its with? Wonderful parenting, top notch."

Finnick shoots her a look, "Its Clove."

"Was that so hard?"

"I still haven't forgiven her for almost killing Cato."

"Oh god, Finnick, that was five years ago. She is a mature ten year old now, going out on chaperoned dates and everything. If anything, I'm worried about Noah. Those little hands of his could get frisky."

"He's ten."

"But he's your son. You've got frisky hands."

Finnick's look doesn't soften, "Remind me why I've decided to marry you?"

Annie shrugs, "Might have something to do with the fact that you love me?"

"Damn right I do," He places a chaste kiss on her lips as he lets go of her hand and grabs a fist full of breast.

"See! Frisky!"


	4. Taking Advantage (HayHanna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick isn't the only one with a life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for deathmallow :)

>   
>  Ϟ _Now to weather specialist Claudius Templesmith with the weather._ _Thank you Caesar_. _There will be a heavy snow storm trailing from west to east with a predicted snow fall of over 20 centimeters by the morning. Please stay off the road as much as possible._ Ϟ
> 
>   
>  “Fuck that’s a lot of snow,” Johanna states with awe as she idly wipes down the same glass mug.
> 
>   
>  “Well, welcome to back Canada, sweetheart. It missed you.”
> 
>   
>  Johanna whips the dirty rag at her co-worker, Haymitch Abernathy. He dodges with ease, making her grumble as she has to grab the rag from the other side of the bar.
> 
>   
>  “In all honesty though, why do we have to have our first fucking snow fall in five years the week I don’t have a man around the house to shovel it for me?” Johanna gripes, nearly smashing the glass when she puts it on the shelf.
> 
>   
>  “Where is he?” Haymitch asks nonchalantly, drying another glass.  
> 
>   
>  “Lucky bastard is in Los Angeles.”  
> 
>   
>  “And the boy?”
> 
>   
>  “At the Mellarks’ right now. I gotta pick him when I get home. I’m on babysitting duty this time too.”
> 
>   
>  “I thought you liked your quasi nephew?”
> 
>   
>  “I do … it’s just….he didn’t even _fucking_ ask if I wanted to do it. I wish the moron would be more considerate. I have a life too! I don’t want to be his fucking place holder all the time,” Johanna shouts as she throws the glass in her hand onto the ground in anger.
> 
>   
>  She immediately regrets it upon looking at the shattered pieces of the ground. Great. That’ll be coming out of her paycheck.
> 
>   
>   Tossing the rag into the empty sink, she rushes back into the utility closet to grab a broom and a dust pan.
> 
>   
>  Just as she’s about to sweep up her mess, Johanna feels his rough hand on hers along with a gentle tug on the broom. Looking up she sees Haymitch looking down at her with those calm, slate gray eyes of his. Instantly, she can feel her heart rate begin to slow.
> 
>   
>  “I’ll sweep, you hold the dustpan,” he offers, with a voice as steady and calming as his eyes. She cannot find it in herself to say no.
> 
>   
>  They work in silence until the bar is spotless. When all is done and Johanna has locked up, they wordlessly, they say goodnight (more like good morning) and walk their separate ways down the snow covered streets.
> 
>  
> 
> ***
> 
>  
> 
> The blaring sounds of the miniature fog horn Johanna calls ‘the telephone’, disrupts her dreamless sleep. Rolling over to the other side of the bed, she silences the monstrosity before checking caller ID.
> 
>   
>  “It’s … eight o’clock in the fucking morning, what do you want?”
> 
>   
>  “G-good morning to you too, Johanna,” Peeta’s voices comes through the receiver. Sitting up and running a hand through her short hair, Johanna sighs.
> 
>   
>  “Sorry. Morning, what’s up?”
> 
>   
>  “Um… well… I was wondering about something, would you look out your front window?”
> 
>   
>  “I parked in the garage last night that’s why my car isn’t there,” Johanna answers.
> 
>   
>  “I figured, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” she can hear the smile in Peeta’s voice as he speaks. “There is a man I’ve never seen, in your drive way, shoveling your snow. I don’t know if you hired someone or if he’s friendly neighbour, I thought I’d talk to you first before I went to go say something to him.”
> 
>   
>  Confused, Johanna throws back the covers and slips into a robe before making her way from her room to the front of the house. Peeking between the blinds of the living room window she sees him, with a hat covering his dark curls, gloves covering those calloused hands of his as he slowly but surely cleans her drive way.
> 
>   
>  “Hello, Johanna?” Peeta says, distantly through the receiver.
> 
>   
>  “Yeah, sorry. I’m here,” Johanna doesn’t realize she is smiling until then. “Don’t worry about the guy, okay. He’s a friend from work.”
> 
>   
>  “A friend, huh. I wish my friends from work would come by and help me with difficult chores.”
> 
>   
>  “Shut up, Peeta, it’s nothing like that! Haymitch is my dad’s friend, probably just doing him a favour.” She protests, feeling her face grow warm. “He’s in the process of getting over a divorce; he’s not interested in me like that.”  
> 
>   
>  “Sure. Whatever you say,” Peeta says with a shrug. “Let me know if he needs an extra hand. I was shoveling this morning, the snow’s really dense.”
> 
>   
>  “We’ll be okay, but thank you,” Johanna signs off and hangs up the phone. Placing it on the coffee table in the living room, she shuffles into the front hall and slips into a pair of Finnick’s boots and steps outside.
> 
>   
>  The slam of the door catches his attention and turns that concentrated grimace into a small smile.
> 
>   
>  Words escape her as she looks past Haymitch to see that a majority of her thin strip of drive way has been cleared. She wants to laugh and cry, maybe even kiss him a little. Which one she wanted to do more than the other, she didn’t know.
> 
>   
>  Surprising even herself, she runs down the front steps and launches herself into his open stance. Her arms wrap around his exposed neck and her warm cheek touches his cold, stubbly one.
> 
>   
>  “I know I should’ve asked, but I didn’t really think you’d mind if I gave you a hand,” Haymitch says softly into her ear as he drops the shovel onto the tarmac and wraps his arms around her waist.
> 
>   
>  “No, not at all,” she squeezes him tighter, catching a whiff of the cologne she once told him she liked.
> 
>   
>  Maybe it is like that after all.


	5. Bag of Tricks (HayHanna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Noah or Johanna know how to cope with Separation Anxiety, Haymitch does.

Noah’s brown, wavy head lifts up from its place in his book when the doorbell rings. His eyes stare hopefully at Johanna as she passes through the family room. Ruffling his hair, she offers him her best smile. Darting up from the worn, leather couch he bolts to the door.

 

Upon opening it, Noah’s face skews with fear, confusion and disappointment.  Johanna tries to pick him up but he squirms away from her grasp and races down the hallway, slamming the door to his bedroom.

 

Haymitch is not the man he wants to see.

 

“Hi there.”

 

“Hey,” Johanna murmurs, running a hand through her hair and looking down at her socked feet.

 

“Some mood he’s in, huh?”

 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Johanna sighs, stepping aside letting Haymitch through the door. At times like these that there is nothing she wouldn’t give to get Finnick to come home early.

 

“Enlighten me,” Haymitch says with a smile while opening up the box of donuts he brought and flopping onto the vacant couch.

 

 Swinging her legs over the warn out arm rest, Johanna joins him before grabbing a beer.

 

“He gets this way every time Finnick leaves on one of his ‘business trips’. Doesn’t talk, barely eats, and if it weren’t summer vacation, I wouldn’t have been able to get him outta bed.” Johanna takes a look sip from her drink.

 

“Ah.”

 

“Yeah,” Johanna grumbles. “A pain in my ass. Makes babysitting twice as hard.”

 

“I would imagine…” Haymitch nods absentmindly. His eyes shift away from her as he takes a small bite from the donut.

 

“Okay, what did I do?” she narrows her eyes and sits straight up against the back of the couch. “Did I say something? Am I not being a good enough Aunt to him? Parenting is hard-work, asshole, stop judging.”

 

“I’m not saying it isn’t hard work,” his voice dips low. “But I know you, Johanna. Communication isn’t your strong suit; though what the boy needs right now is someone he can talk to. Someone’s he’s comfortable with.”

 

“I fucking live with him!” she shouts. “I make that kid’s breakfast, do his laundry, occasionally even clean his room and take him out to play ball hockey on Sundays. I’m pretty damn sure he’s comfortable!”

 

“Would you lower your voice, sweetheart? Do you always scream like this?”

 

“Fuck off!”

 

 

Haymitch blinks.

 

 

Getting up from his seat, he shoves his donut in his mouth before taking the nearly full box and heading off down the hallway.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“To feed a starving child.”

 

Johanna rolls her eyes causing Haymitch to smile as he knocks on the boy’s bedroom door. “Hey, munchkin I brought donuts, you want one?”

 

Neither of them hears the floor boards creak or Noah’s bed sheets ruffle.

 

“Kiddo, your Auntie Jo is worried about you, would you please open the door? She just wants to talk.” Haymitch tries again.

 

This time, they hear the light padding of bare feet, the turn of the lock and Noah pops his head out from behind the door. His eyes are puffy and red, pajamas soaked in sweat and a small urine stain. When those short arms of his shoot up into the air, Johanna doesn’t think twice about picking him up and holding him tight.

 

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Auntie Jojo,” Noah sniffles, wiping his running nose on her shirt.

 

“It’s okay, hun. It’s okay. Let’s get you cleaned up and then we’ll get donuts for dinner and watch TV until your Daddy calls.”

 

Noah nods. The smile that stretches across his lips is the first one she has seen all week.

 

Turning to back to Haymitch, embarrassment flushes its way onto her face. Leaning down, he places a kiss on her forehead.

 

“Good thing I brought my bag of tricks,” he smirks. Johanna shoves him as she rolls her eyes bringing a deep chuckle from his chest.

 

 She wasn’t going to deny it nor was she going to openly admit it, but she was glad he came around today.


	6. Hello, Beautiful (Gadge)

 

 

Gale can feel the entire row of plastic seats shake in time to the bounce of his feet. The keys clang and jingle together in his hands as he twirls them around his fingers.

 

She promised him two weeks.

 

She took two months.

 

No one could blame him for being on edge, especially when patience is not one of his virtues.

 

Taking a deep breath, Gale plants his feet flat on the ground and leans back against the padded chair. Arms crossed over his chest, he closes his eyes as he thinks of everything else but passing time.

 

A smile crosses his taut face as his mind drifts to earlier events in the day. This morning was the last day he took that ugly, thick tipped, red Sharpy and made an ‘X’ through the blank, white box on his calendar. Nothing had felt more satisfying.

 

Opening his eyes, slowly, Gale can feel the weight of his relaxed body. Glancing briefly at his watch it reads 10:16pm.

 

Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes until his Madge bounces down that escalator into his waiting arms. He’ll lift her high above his head, look into her baby blue eyes and lower her down into a kiss.

 

He has missed the fullness of her lips, that opened with the gentlest coax of his tongue. Gale found out that no matter what she eats, there is the everlasting taste of strawberries on her tongue.

 

He has missed the way her silky smooth blonde hair cascades in waves down her bare back and her bangs curl under her chin when they laid in bed together.

 

He has missed running his fingers down that slight curve in her spine while feeling her shiver and squirm. Once they had enough, he would kiss the beauty mark on the back of her neck. She always felt so cool beneath his touch, leaning into it every time he graced her with his sandpaper hands.

 

He has missed the way she would moan as his kisses fluttered down her neck. While his fingers busily trace the hem of her panties before hooking under the band and slipping them down her thighs, below her knees and sliding them down to her ankles. God, she’s beautiful!

 

Beknownst to Gale, he licks his lips.

 

 

Lifting his heavy, hooded lids he checks his watch.

 

 

10:28pm.

 

 

Scanning the sea of people coming down that escalator, greeting each other with hugs and kisses, Gale frowns. She should definitely be here by now. Where was she? Was her flight delayed? Will he have to wait another day to see her? He wouldn’t know what he’d do if it did!

 

“Have a nice day dream?” the rich tones of her voice ring like bells in his ears. Whipping his head over his shoulder, it is as if the stars aligned themselves just for him. There she stands, in his forest green swim team hoodie with her hair wrapped around itself in a bun atop her head. And those large, gorgeous blue eyes of her twinkle so brilliantly.

 

His chest grows tight and his body rigid as his vision of bright, shining Madge blurs. Gale can barely make out the smile on her face once she wraps her arms around him, tightly.

 

Resting his hands on her back, pulling her close and holding her steady, Gale can feel the rapid rise and fall of her body.

 

The two of them have been apart for much longer stretches of time, but neither had been as emotional then as they are right now.

 

Channeling his strength, Gale hoists Madge up in the air. Instead of lowering her into a kiss, she simply latches her legs around his hips and drapes her arms around his neck.

 

“Hello, beautiful,” he says, placing a kiss on her wet cheek. “How’s it going?”


	7. Bonding (Odesta, Hayhanna, Gadge)

Johanna didn’t take well to the addition of a new woman in her “family’s” life.  Annie became all Finnick and Noah ever talk about. The way she could get Finnick’s shoulders to fall when he flashes that easy-going smile and Noah to open up about his anxieties without any coaxing made Johanna feel useless in comparison.

  
Having tried to take herself out of the equation, she finds herself sucked back in. Johanna found she can’t say no to Finnick or his little bundle of joy. They are her men; she couldn’t deny them anything.

  
So, she copes the best she can with Annie Cresta fluttering around her house. Sitting on Finnick’s lap while they watch a football game together, helping Noah with his homework and cooking hot dinners for them to come home to.

 

 

  
However, her irritability doesn’t go unnoticed.

 

  
  
Whenever Annie finds herself in the same room as Johanna, she can sense the stale tension that lingers in the air.  Despite her desire, she refrains from bridging this gap in their relationship. Fear makes even the strongest people weak.

  
  
This gives Finnick no other choice but to step in, something he has avoided since he brought Annie home for dinner that first night and it ended in a disaster.  

  
He finally loses his patience with the situation when he catches Annie peeking over her shoulder every time Gale and Johanna holler at the television set when the Vancouver Canucks shoot a goal.

  
  
“Why don’t you go sit down and watch, I’ll finish,” he offers, lifting the wooden spatula out of her thin hands.

  
  
“It’s alright, they’re losing anyhow,” she sighs, bending down to take the strainer out of the bottom drawer.

  
  
“Damn right they’re losing, Cresta. I bet even during off season they couldn’t hit a hole in one,” Johanna’s laughter bellows above the cheering from the television and high five’s Gale’s waiting hand.

  
  
“Enough is enough with this crap !”Finnick shouts, unintentionally making Annie jump. “I won’t let you continue to antagonize her over trivialities. Both of you are equality important in my life and I can’t let the two of you keep going like this!”

  
  
“And what do you suggest, Odair? We go shopping? Get our nails done? Gossip about your skills in bed?” Johanna prompts, with a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

  
  
Annie watches as Finnick’s face contorts in thought. She finds it charming the way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and taps his fingers on the top one. If he were wearing his glasses, they would slide down to the bridge of his nose.

  
  
Her favourite part, however, is when his thoughts fade and the answer sparks. Finnick’s green eyes widen and eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as a smile creeps across his face. If they weren’t in the company of Johanna and Gale, Annie would indulge in her feelings towards his silent charms.

  
  
Finnick pivots around to the stove, turning off the elements and moving the simmering pot to a cool element before he grabs his thick, pea coat off the back of the chair. “We’re going to go down to Blight’s tonight,” Finnick beams. “Drinks are on me.”  


 

 

Johanna’s smile drops.  


 

 

“Are you sure?” Annie inquires, cautiously. “There must be another way we could bond. Drinking isn’t our only option.”

  
“It’s a fun option, though,” Gale chimes in toeing into his shoes with a small smile. “Who knows, a little alcohol in your system might even loosen the two of you up enough to start kissing.”

  
  
“No,” Annie and Johanna call out in unison as they shoot Gale an angry look. Throwing his hands up in defence, he lets the idea drop as the girls share a startled look.

  
  
Flashing each other an inconspicuous smirk from the doorway, Finnick and Gale bump fists. He really missed the good old days.  


 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

“So then he climbs up onto the railing. I swear to fucking God I thought the bastard was going to die he was swaying so much. But he fucking dove off the banister and didn’t even fucking splash when he hit the water,” Gale shares, animatedly, shocking Annie into silence while Johanna howls. With his face in his hands, Finnick groans. There were a million other stories Gale could have told them that didn’t involve him looking irresponsible and reckless. But drunk Gale doesn’t have a filter.

  
  
“Professional diver or not, you’re an idiot,” Johanna wheezes before downing the last of her beer. “I can’t believe you still want him, Annie. You could do a lot better that this oaf.”

 

“Hey!” Finnick calls across the counter. “I resent that.”

  
  
“Aww, honny,” Annie coos, leaning her head onto his shoulder and placing a kiss on the joint of his jaw. “I love you even if you’ve done some really stupid things. Without them, I wouldn’t have met you.”  Finnick smile down at her and kisses the top of her head.

  
  
“Heeyyymitch! Bring us another ro-und, you lovable stud you,” Johanna shouts, with a grin, before falling back into another set of snorts and giggles with Annie.

  
“No,” Haymitch states firmly. “You’ve had enough. I refuse to carry your drunk ass home.”

  
“Why do you think we brought Hawthorne?” Johanna smirks, punching Gale in the shoulder. He sways longer in reaction than he should.  
  
Haymitch doesn’t look up from the glass he is cleaning. “You’re not getting another.”

  
“Pleeaase,” Annie pleads, batting her long lashes at the bartender, grabbing a hold of Johanna’s hand and twining their fingers together. “Johanna and I are finally getting along; can’t we have one more drink to toast our new friendship?” Annie tries to cover up the giggle that passes through her words.

  
Lifting his gaze, Haymitch looks her up and down then directs his attention to Finnick.

  
  
“So, you’ve decided to marry this one?”

  
  
“That’s right,” Finnick grins as leaves a kiss on Annie’s cheek. Sending her into a new giggling fit.

  
“And you, where’s your girl for the night?” Haymitch directs at Gale, whose wide eyes blink, “You’ve got a ring on your finger.”

  
  
“Oh. At my friend’s place. She’s not feeling well, really nauseous. Y’know, pregnancy shit,” Gale shrugs as he licks at the tendrils weaving down the side of his glass.

  
  
Their little group falls silent. The harmonizing howls of the patrons sound from behind them as the Leafs score the winning goal of the game.

  
  
“What?” Gale grunts, staring out at their small group with narrowed eyes.

  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Finnick shouts, slamming his glass on the table.

  
  
“Hey watch it, Odair; you break it I buy it,” Johanna calls out.

  
  
“Calm your shit, I just found out a couple days ago,” Gale mumbles. “She doesn’t want me telling anyone so shhh,” his scowl pulls into a grin.

  
  
Letting go of Johanna’s hand, Annie twists on her stool and throws her arms around Gale. “Congratulations!”

  
  
“Thanks, Annie-cakes,” he hugs her back, shooting Finnick a satisfied smirk who returns his friend’s gesture with the finger.  No one called her Annie-cakes but him.

  
  
“So what do you say, now?” Johanna wriggles her eyebrows at her boyfriend. “One last round?”

  
  
“Fine. But I’m still not carting your ass home, sweetheart,” he grumbles as he collects the mugs and fills them half way.

  
“To baby Hawthorne,” Finnick starts with a grin, lifting his glass up.

  
  
“To Finnick’s generosity,” Gale laughs while his friend groans.

  
  
“And to bonding,” Annie says clinking her glass with Johanna’s.

  
  
“Yeah,” Johanna smiles. “To bonding,” she says, pushing her glass against Annie’s.

  
  
“Cheers!”  
  



	8. Keep me Warm in the Coldest Hour (Odesta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick comes back home, Annie is thrilled to see him and get her three days of peace with him but he doesn’t seem as interested.

 

* * *

 

 

From the moment he got on the plane Sunday morning, Annie planned for his return. Making reservations for a romantic dinner of fondue, on the first night, while stocking his fridge up with fresh meat, vegetables and wine for the other two nights they will have the house to themselves.

 

Although Finnick’s plane is scheduled to arrive late afternoon on Wednesday, he walks through the front door of his home several hours earlier.

 

Startled by his presence, Annie hesitates briefly before she wraps her arms around him and kisses him soundly on the mouth.

 

Usually, once Finnick returns home, he wraps his arms around her, pulls her close and kisses her back with fervor. However, this time, his lips do not press into hers nor do his arms shift from his side. Overcome with hurt, Annie pulls away only to see his bright green eyes cast in gray.

 

“Finnick,” she calls out to him, running one of her thin fingers down the stumble on his cheek.  

 

He does not return to her, his mind is still lost at the border where he abandoned his son to hop on the first plane that took him as far away from the boy’s toxic mother as soon as possible.

 

“Finnick,” she tries again, pressing another kiss to his lips and weaving their fingers together. This time, he blinks behind his thick frames and the smile that pushes past his lips breaks her heart.

 

“Hi,” his voice cracks from lack of use. “Miss me?”

 

“Of course I did,” Annie holds back the tears that threaten to form in her eyes.

 

“I missed you too, Annie cakes,” he says, each word laced with strain as he squeezes her hand tightly and tugs her back towards him.  Hoisting her up, her legs instinctively wrap around his waist and her arms loop around his neck while his hands guide her face to his.

 

Finnick kisses her slowly. Each touch of his lips to hers lingers a little bit longer than the last. Her fingers twist at the long strands of hair tangled by the nape of his neck, holding him close to her while a shiver runs down his spine. The quiet pop of their lips brings a genuine smile to each of their faces.

 

Once they reach their bedroom, he places her gently on the queen sized bed. Sliding her hands up the hem, Annie helps him pull his faded blue t-shirt along his defined stomach muscles and over his head.

 

“I really do love when you wear your glasses,” Annie says, reaching up and cradling his face in her hands once more. “You look really sexy,” she tugs at the plastic arms and slides them down his nose. “Really smart too.”

 

Finnick chuckles, crawling on top of her, “Well, I’ll have you know, I am as smart and sexy as I look.”

 

“It’s a wonder Noah turned out so modest with a father like you,” Annie teases, placing his glasses on the bedside table and weaving her hands through his hair to pull him down for another kiss.

 

 

 

But he jerks out of her touch and falls back onto his knees.

 

 

 

He slips away again, returning to the airport gate where a sleepy Noah rests his head in the crook of his step-father’s neck as he lazily waves goodbye to his dad.

 

 Running his hands through his hair, Finnick gently begins to tug on it.

 

“I just… I just up and left him there. In a foreign country. With people he barely knows,” his voice borders hysteria. “What if something happens to him? What if he gets injured or sick and he’s crying out for me but I can’t help him because I’m _here_.”

 

Separating his fingers out of his hair with her own, Annie takes his shaking hands into hers. Guiding him down onto the bed, he lands onto the empty space beside her.

 

“I shouldn’t have left, Annie,” he chokes. “I’m a bad parent. I should’ve stayed. Even if Cashmere makes want to shoot a bullet through my skull, I shouldn’t have left him alone.”

 

Stroking his hand with her thumb, Annie can hear the deep breath he takes in an attempt to calm down.

 

“You are the furthest thing from a bad parent,” she reassures him. “You’re letting Noah branch out on his own; learn about the other half of his family and allowing him make his own opinions.”  She smiles at him, while sitting up to straddle over his limp body.

 

“What’s most important, though, is that’s he’s with people _you_ trust. Once he realizes that, that’ll get him to trust them too.” She places a soft kiss through the smile that stretches across his face.

 

Finnick’s rough hands find the smooth skin of her core, running them up her sides and back down to the waistline of her skirt. His fingers dancing around the hem before his hands slide down the length of her thighs and around the fabric, bunching it up at her hips.

 

“I still can’t believe how lucky I am,” he says, trailing a finger along the seam of her panty covered folds. “Someone so… so… _able_ to be who I need is just…”

 

Annie smirks as she looks down at him through her lashes, “Tongue tied much, handsome?”

 

Letting out an undignified grunt, Finnick rolls her onto her back. Hooking his fingers under the elastic of her silk panties he yanks them down to her ankles before pushing one finger into her.

 

“Finnick,” Annie moans, her hips bucking with intent as his fingers move at tantalizingly slow pace. “Please…”

 

The whine that passes through her lips is music to his ears, “And what can the luckiest guy in the world do for his girl?”

 

“I…um…ah … faster,” she pleads, as he trails his finger back along the seam of her wet folds, grazing her clit each time.  

 

“Like this?” he asks, leaning over her for a kiss as he pushes his finger into her again, quickening his speed. “Or would you rather I start making good on those plans of yours?”

 

Watching him through hooded lids, Annie smiles, “As long as I am the one on top.”

 

Finnick cannot help but laugh as he rolls her back on top of him. Cupping her face in his hands, he touches another kiss to her lips.  “You make it so easy to love you, Annie Cresta.”

 

Annie returns the kiss with a smile, “Only because I have someone like you, Finnick Odair.”

 

 

* * *

 


	9. I'm a big kid now (odesta)

 

* * *

 

 

“Finnick Odair, the store is closing in half an hour and our flight to DC is tomorrow morning. We’re going to look like idiots if we show up to the baby shower without a present!”

 

“You have a much better taste for these things than I do, Annie. Whatever you pick I’m sure will be fine,” he answers back, distracted by the rows upon rows of toys on the shelf.

 

“You’re the one with the kid! Didn’t Cashmere have a baby shower?”

 

“Yeah, but I don’t remember what were presents and what she bought for Noah,” he says, walking down the aisle filled with cars and action figures. Idly glancing up and down the shelves, Finnick’s eyes widen in excitement as he spots the perfect gift.

 

“No. Absolutely not. It is incredibly inappropriate and way out of our budget.”

 

“Oh c’mon,” he whines, dragging the box off the shelf. “What kid wouldn’t want a remote control helicopter?”

 

“The kind that can swallow the small parts.”

 

“He’ll grow into it, unlike clothes which he’ll grow out of in two months,” Finnick explains.

 

“Y’know, I always wanted one of these. I asked for one on every birthday until I was ten. After that, my father said I was too old for presents,” his voice drops down to a murmur. “Bastian and just turned four that fall so all the money they would have used to buy me or my sister a gift, they spent on him instead.”

 

“Oh…baby…”

 

“It’s alright, it’s the past now,” he looks over at her with a bright, sad smile.

 

Annie sighs as she bends down to kiss her fiancé on the forehead, “You can buy it for yourself if you like.”

 

“Really?! Can I play with it in the house, too?!”

 

“As long as you don’t fly it too high,” Annie smiles as Finnick plants a long, firm kiss onto her lips.

 

“Thank you,” he breathes upon pulling away.

 

Flushed and daze, Annie nods her head in acknowledgement, “Now that we have twenty minutes left and you’re getting your toy, can we find something for Gale and Madge?”

 

“Sure,” Finnick says with a playful grin, hugging the toy to his chest. “She said she wanted a Playskool play saucer, I have no idea which one though.”

 

Looping her arm through his, Annie pecks his cheek, “Guess we’ll just have to play with each one until we figure out which is more fun.”

 

“I like the way you think.”

 

 

* * *

 


	10. The Wedding Song (odesta)

 

* * *

 

 

“Looking at them now, it is unfathomable that there was ever anyone else other than Annie,” Gale says with a smile, raising his glass to the tearful couple.  “A toast to the happy couple, Finnick and Annie Odair. Cheers.”

 

The couple clink their champagne flutes, taking a small sip along with their guests before lifting themselves out of their seats.

 

Finnick, and his two left feet, wanted to take lessons but Annie insisted even he can slow dance; all it takes is a little practice.

 

As he leads her on the dance floor, the lights dim and a spotlight shines on them allowing for Finnick’s worries fade.

 

Squeezing her hand tightly, he wraps his other arm around her waist and pulls her close. Resting her head on his shoulder, they begin to sway.

 

 

Gale’s introduction gets lost in their moment, where even the hundreds of eyes staring out at them are not there. It is only them and the melodic saxophone playing in the background, nothing more nothing less.

 

Picking her head off of his shoulder, Annie looks up at Finnick whose eyes are shiny with tears. She slips her hand out from his as she wipes away the rolling tear and kisses his lips sweetly.

 

“We finally did it,” Annie whispers against the side of his cheek.  

 

“Yeah, we did,” he laughs, twirling her as the DJ announces that the dance floor is open to the guests. “Took us long enough.”

 

“I’d say it was well worth the wait,” she smiles back.

 

A short tug on the bodice of her dress brings Annie’s attention away from her husband and towards the ten year old boy with the wide grin.

 

“Well hello there young man,” Annie says, bending down to be at eye level with her son.

 

“May I have this dance,” he asks, offering up the palm of his hand and bowing.

 

Finnick snorts. “Did Grandpa give you lessons on how to act like an 1800s gentleman?”

 

“Caius did!” Noah exclaims. “He said it would help if I wanted to pick up any ladies. I told him I am already committed to Clove,  but then he said it would put a smile on Annie’s face if I asked her to dance like this so…”

 

“Well, he’s right. It worked,” Annie replies with a smile, as she takes Noah’s hand. “How about you show me some of those moves you were practising the other day.”

 

“Hold your horses kiddo, don’t I get a say?” Finnick asks, with his eyebrow raised.

 

Annie rolls her eyes as she laughs while Noah contemplates the notion thoroughly.

 

“Dad, can I have a dance with Annie?” he requests, widening those green eyes of his while jutting out his lower lip in a pout.

 

Finnick narrows his eyes, “You better take good care of her. If she comes back to me with so much as a scratch, I’ll tell Uncle Caius you need to be in bed by nine.”

 

Noah gulps and nods as he carefully guides her to an empty spot on the dance floor. Finnick sighs as he watches Noah’s slow dance their Annie.

 

Looking at the puzzle pieces, it is hard for even him to believe Noah and Annie came from two different boxes.

 

“You did well,” Cashmere’s voice comes from over his shoulder, startling him. “Too well, actually. Doesn’t have an ounce of me in him anymore.”

 

“Guess he out grew you.” Finnick shrugs. Not bothering to look at her, he avoids the scowl directed at him. The persistent tapping of her heels blend into the booming sounds of the fast paced song.

 

“Can I steal a dance from you?” she inquires.

 

“Someone’s brave, you sure?”

 

Cashmere rolls her eyes, “Yes, I’m sure.”

 

“You’re sure, you’re sure?”

 

“Fucking Christ, Odair! If you don’t want to you can just say ‘no’ like a normal human being.”

 

“But that’s part of his charm,” Annie chimes in as she saddles up beside him and placing a kiss on his cheek. “Partially why I just married him.”

 

Cashmere wrinkles her nose as she narrows her eyes, “Well then congratulations,” she says patting him on the shoulder before walking briskly over to the bar.

 

“So, you really didn’t marry me because of good looks,” Finnick plasters on an obnoxious frown, making Annie kiss it away.

 

“That’s just an added bonus,” she smirks. “I’m not that shallow.”

 

He smiles back, finding her hand and sliding his fingers through hers. “You wouldn’t be Mrs. Odair if I thought you were,” he says, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing it. “Would you like to have our second dance as Mister and Misses Odair?” he ventures, wrapping his other arm around her waist as another slow song comes on.

 

“Gladly.”

 


	11. No Competition (Odesta)

 

* * *

 

 

Annie doesn’t notice how late in day it had gotten until a shiver rolls down her spine.

 

Spending the day relaxing by the pool side of their hotel with a new book had been wonderful. However, such a day will probably not repeat itself as Finnick will most likely want to spend following days out exploring the Hawaiian landscape.

 

Closing her book, she stretches out just as a large splash sends water spraying every which way. Looking up, Annie catches a glimpse of Finnick’s ankles as he follows through with whatever dive he completed.

 

“Show off,” an unfamiliar voice scoffs in her ear.

 

Peering over her shoulder, Annie sees a man young man standing beside her. His broad shoulders are squared under the thin, white polo as his fiery red hair stands on end in a styled bed head look. The metal name tag on his shirt reads Darius.

 

“Hm?” Annie asks, Darius’ narrowed eyes widen as he takes note of her and smiles.

 

“Were you not just watching?”

 

“Watching what?” 

 

Sitting down onto the empty lounge chair beside her the young man’s smile bursts into a grin, “Doesn’t matter. You seem a little cold; can I get you anything miss?”

 

“I’m alright, thank you, I should be heading inside anyways,” she says. “It’s almost dinner. I’d like to get to the buffet before the crowd comes in.”

 

 “They’re like animals,” Darius laughs. “There is barely anything good left for the staff by the end of the day.”

 

Not wanting to embarrass him, Annie laughs along with him and his gross over exaggeration.

 

“A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn’t be all by herself in a resort like this,” he drawls, a thick red eyebrow raised in intrigue. “My shift is over in an hour. Can I interest you in some company during dinner?”

 

She can feel her face grow warm. Whether it be from anger or embarrassment, she doesn’t know. Scanning around the pool side, there is no one else in sight. It has been all of two minutes, where has Finnick possibly gone?

 

“Well,” Darius asks, his fingers reaching out to her. “What do you say?”

 

Before she can open her mouth to reply, a thick red hoodie with “ISU Swim Team” printed on the back falls into her lap. Craning her neck upwards, it is Finnick’s darkened green eyes and clenched jaw that greet her.

 

They don’t rest on Annie for long as they snap towards the inappropriately friendly pool boy. Darius looks no happier as his back straightens, shoulders square and his eyes narrow once more. 

 

Annie holds back the giggle that rests in her core.

 

“Sorry I’m late, darling, I went to go get changed,” Finnick says, touching his lips to her temple. “If I’d known you had company, I would have come sooner.” Annie smiles as he reaches for her left hand. She can no longer suppress her giggle as Finnick’s fingers brush against the gold band. 

 

Both men look over at her, quizzically. Annie continues to grin.

 

“Finnick, this is Darius, the young man who so sweetly just asked me to dinner. Darius, this is my husband, Finnick, whom I will be having dinner with this evening. Thank you for the offer though.”

 

Darius’ face drains of colour as he sputters out apologies and gives them access to the pool facilities after hours, for the evening only.

 

Accepting the offer gratuitously, Annie turns to her husband with a smile. But his smile in return doesn’t reach his darkened eyes.

 

While walking up to their room, Finnick doesn’t let go of her hand. Not when he opens the door for her, or when he falls onto their king sized bed. She laughs heartily as he brings her down on top of him.

 

But her laughter doesn’t spring solace into his green eyes. They remain as stormy as they did moments before.

 

 “You wear it so well,” Annie says, laying her head down on his chest.

 

“Wear what well, darling?” his free hand finds his way into her hair, stroking it gently.

 

“Jealousy,” she hums, placing a kiss to his clothed chest. “I thought you were sexy before but now…I don’t think anything can compare.”

 

“Oh really now?” Finnick says, playfully. “Then someone was far too caught up in their book to see me dive today.”

 

Annie’s face turns scarlet.  Her head bounces as he lets out a loud laugh.

 

His hands cup her cheeks, guiding her face upwards and capturing her mouth in a long, sweet kiss. Pressing deeper into it, Annie parts his soft lips tasting the salt from the fresh water pool immediately. His tongue meets hers as he pulls her closer. Letting go of her hand, Finnick’s hands run down every disc in her spine. Once he reaches the swell of her backside, he grips it firmly, pulling a wanton moan from her chest.

 

“That pool boy’s got nothing on me,” he mumbles against her lips as he flips her onto her back. His sea green eyes dance with lust as he positions himself between her parted legs. Droplets of water dripping from his wet hair onto her skin.

 

“There is no competition.”

 

* * *

 


	12. Give You the Moon (Cashmere & Noah)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Finnick and Annie are on their honeymoon, Noah stays with his mum in L.A.

 

  _“ I have my mother’s mouth and my father’s eyes; on my face they are still together.”_

 

 - Warsan Shire

 

 

 

* * *

 

“Alright boys, wind it down. Time for bed.”

“Aww, but mom,” Marvel and Noah harmonize as their eyes remain glued to the television set. “Five more minutes! Noah’s really kicking some serious butt here!”

“I gave you five more minutes, an _hour_ ago. It’s past eleven; I promised Noah’s dad he’d be asleep by now. If we break faith with him, Noah won’t be allowed to come back.”

Taking the empty threat seriously, Marvel begins to save and exit out of their game quickly. After cleaning up their controllers and throwing the chip bags, they race down the hall to the bathroom where they brush their teeth before climbing between the sheets of their twin size beds.

When Marvel was found he had a half brother, he wanted to be sure that he Noah shared everything. As much as he loved his sister, Glimmer, he did not love playing girl games with her.

Letting out a yawn the moment his head hits the pillow, Cashmere tucks Marvel in and places a kiss on top of his thin, platinum blond hairs as his eyelids droop.  
  
“Goodnight, mommy,” Marvel says, snuggling up with his stuffed dinosaur. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” she coos, before turning to Noah. Those green eyes are trained on the exchange with interest.

Turning to her first child, she pulls the linen sheet up across his chest. Brushing the long hairs of his bangs out of his face, Cashmere kisses the boy’s forehead before offering him a goodnight.

“Mama, can I ask you something?”

“Sure you can, baby. What’s on your mind?” she asks, making her way back across the room to his bedside. He scoots over to make room for her on the tiny bed. His beautiful sea green eyes shimmering no different than his father’s in the orange glow of lamp light.

“Uncle Peeta was telling me how babies, like a good loaf of bread, are made with tendering loving care. I know your married and you love Caius, but I was wondering… did you ever love my dad?” his voice is quiet but his words sharp.

Cashmere is caught off guard for a split second. It had truly been a wonder that Noah was so willing to let her become an important part of his life, speculating about her relationship to his father was natural. Something she anticipated for a long while. And yet, her tongue grows dry as she is at a loss for words.

“I did... still do…” she answers, finally.

“You do?!” his eyes shoot open. “Really?”

“Not like Annie loves your dad… not anymore but…like family.”

Wrapping his elongating arms around her thin waist, Noah places a kiss on her cheek.  “I bet he loves you too!”

Cashmere flashes him a bittersweet smile, “I don’t think so…”

“No no, I’m sure he does. Even just a little bit, or he wouldn’t let me stay here with you. Daddy loves the people he trusts.”

His naivety makes her want to cry. So much unsullied hope.

“Why don’t you ask him then and let me know what he says, okay baby?”

Noah’s mop of brown hair flows as he nods his head eagerly. “Okay! First thing when he comes to pick me up?”

“Wait until you get home,” _I don’t want to see the look on your face._

“Alright,” he says, shimming back down under the covers. “Goodnight, Mama.”

“G’night, Noah,” she says, kissing his forehead yet again before slipping out of the bedroom.  With her head down cast, she nearly runs straight into Caius’ hefty frame as he hovers just outside the doorway.

The sympathy in his shining blue eyes has her wrapping her arms around him and holding him close.

“I love that boy so very much,” she mumbles into her husband’s chest, squeezing his core tightly. “But he’s going to get hurt.”

“You gave him your best answer,” Caius says, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to their bedroom. “The ball is in Finnick’s court, I have faith he’ll handle the situation with care.”

“The two of you have such confidence in his abilities,” Cashmere smiles, wearily. “Did I miss something?”

Caius chuckles as he walks them into their master suite, “Finnick has been carefully stepping around the subject of your for years, he’s kind of an expert when it comes to manoeuvring around tough topics.”

“Acknowledging whether he still loves me or not is not something he can avoid forever. Noah’s persistent.”

“I know,” Caius smiles.

Silence ensues as Cashmere slides out of her clothes, into a silk slip and climbs atop the king sized bed beside her husband.

“Do you think he loved me at all?”

“I think…once upon a time, there was something,” Caius begins carefully after a long while. “Something he wasn’t too sure about himself. I remember that one evening, the three of us had dinner for the first time. The two of you were like watching oil and water miraculously developing a bonding agent. It was fascinating and heartbreaking at the same time.”

“What’s your point?”

“You can’t ‘unlove’ someone, Catherine,” he sighs. “All it does it take a new form. However he felt all those years ago, is mixed in somewhere amongst all the hurt you’ve caused him.” Caius’ large, boney hand finds hers and brings it to his lips. Crystal blue eyes dancing with insecurity.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Cashmere reassures him, fanning her fingers out to capture his snow white cheek. “I’ve made my choice. He’s made his. This is what we want.”

“Just promise me one thing,” he says, leaning into her touch and taking a hold of her other hand and squeezes it. “No matter what Noah wants, you won’t let your guilt get the better of you. You’ll keep a clear head.”

“Eight years of marriage, twenty-five years of friendship and you still don’t trust me,” she asks curtly, trying to pull away but he holds her securely to him.

“I do trust you, it’s just…” Caius lets out a deep sigh. “Finnick has a bad track record of keeping his promises.”

That is one thing she had not forgotten about him.

Softly, she pushes back his long white hair behind his ear before kissing his cheek, “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

 

 

* * *

 


	13. Be Honest (Odesta)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading and all your support :) I apologize for the sudden increase in rating.

 

* * *

 

 

Covering his ears, Noah goes to hide in the furthest corner of his bedroom. The ventilation system carries sounds a little too well because even with the door closed, he can still hear Annie shout from family room.

 

 

“You didn’t so much as tell me she was in town let alone the two of you were having lunch together! How do you think I was going to feel when I found out?”

“Time and time again you’ve assured me that you are ok with the current arrangements, so forgive me for thinking you would continue to be okay with them.”

 

 

Noah can hear his father’s patience thinning. Grabbing his stuffed bear off his bed, Noah squeezes the toy to his chest.It is happening all over again, just like when Johanna lived with them.

 

“I’m not upset because of the arrangement,” Annie sighs. “I’m glad Noah gets to spend time with his mother it’s just…”

“Just?”

"I don’t like her spending time with you. Alone.”

 

 

The house falls into a pregnant silence.  Clutching his bear tighter to his chest, tears roll down the boy’s face in anticipation.

“Dad’sgoingtoyell,Dad’sgoingtoyell.Daddypleasedon’tyellatAnnie.Pleasedon’tyellatAnnie.”

 

 

“She surprised me today,” Finnick begins, calmly. “I was expecting Caius to show up in two weeks and drop off some paper work. Which is what I would normally be doing out in California but….”

 

 

Noah removes his hands from his ears and crawls across room to the vent but he can no longer hear what they are saying. Rising to his feet, he tiptoes out of his room, teddy bear still in hand, and down the hallway. Standing in the middle of the room, Annie is wrapped in his father’s embrace as he whispers something into her ear.

The tension Noah previously heard in Annie’s voice is no longer there as she now mumbles her answers to him. Scampering towards them, Noah wraps his arms around his father’s waist from behind, surprising his father and Annie significantly.

“Hey buddy,” he says, pulling his son between him and Annie.  “Where’ve you been?”

“In my room.”

“Have you been crying?” Annie asks, kneeling down to level and thumbing gently his red cheeks and tear stain tracks.

“I don’t like it when you guys fight,” Noah admits, peeling away from his dad to give Annie a hug. “Especially not at you because it wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

“Why do you think it’s your fault?” she questions, with the voice that would lull him to sleep when he was younger.

“You two wouldn’t have been fighting if I hadn’t said Mama should come with us to hockey practice. Then you wouldn’t have known she was in town,” Noah says with a hiccup. “I should have let mom go back to the hotel like she wanted to. I shouldn’t have tried to make us all be a family.”

Finnick’s hand weaves expertly through his son’s hair, “There is nothing wrong with that, Noah. Even if your mom, Annie and I don’t always see eye to eye we’re trying very hard to be a family. For you.”

“Really?” Noah sniffs, wiping his nose on the cuff of his shirt sleeve.

“Really,” Finnick smiles genuinely as he bends down to place a kiss on the boy’s sweaty hair. “Though, it’s also because I’m family that I can tell you you need a bath. You stink, buddy.”

Annie laughs, picking herself up off the floor. “He’s starting to smell like a man now.”

“Ugh, that is disgusting Annie. My boy isn’t going smell like a locker room.”

It’s Noah’s turn to laugh as Annie rolls her eyes. “I’ll go start his bath then. Make sure he takes out a fresh pair of pajamas and throws the others in the laundry. He’s been wearing those for two weeks.”

“Yes ma’am,” Finnick salutes with a smirk, watching Annie sashay down the hall to the bathroom.

“Dad,” Noah says, once he hears the water begin to run. “You never answered my question. Do you still love Mama?”

The smirk on Finnick’s face falls as he looks over at his keening son. Sighing deeply, he pulls Noah close. “I did love your mother, very much. I would have loved her much much more had she stayed and we raised you together. But she didn’t. And now…the only person I will ever love the way I could have loved your mother is Annie.”

Wrapping his short arms around his father’s waist, Noah hugs him tightly. “I’m glad you picked Annie, Dad.”

“I’m glad I picked her too, kiddo,” Finnick’s smile wavers as he rubs Noah’s back gently. “You better get going before the water gets cold and Annie starts shouting again.”

Noah’s face blanches, making his green eyes pop, before skidding down the hardwood floors to the bathroom.

Running his hand through his hair, Finnick takes a deep breath. He will never know how he got so damn lucky.

 

 

***

 

 

“Alright, so he’s just reading right now but he said he’ll turn his light off soon,” Annie says as she walks into her and Finnick’s bedroom. Climbing up onto the bed beside her husband, his glasses are perched on his nose while reads some paperwork. His head snaps up immediately at the tinkling sound of her laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“Like father like son,” she coos. The pads of her fingers rub against the smooth, shaven skin before furling around his jaw and guiding him down into a soft, slow kiss.

Smiling, he frees his hands of the papers and onto his nightstand, before searching eagerly for Annie’s slender frame. Hoisting her up onto his hips, without breaking their kiss, his hands snake under her t-shirt. Wandering fingers climb ever higher until they find the clasp of her bra. With a flick of his wrist, the fastenings come undone leaving fervent hands to grasp as her unconfined breasts.

Shifting out from under his touch, Annie pulls the garments over her head and tosses them onto the floor with abandon. Leaning back down with intent to capture his mouth in another sweet kiss, his lips are not waiting for hers. Having secured themselves onto the base of her neck, they leave a wet trail down her chest until the tip of his tongue sweeps over a pointed, pink nipple.

 A sharp gasp passes her lips as her fist into the bed sheets beneath them. Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she tries to keep silent as Finnick swirls his tongue slowly around one nub and kneads her other breast in the palm of his hand. The brisk contrast of delectable heat to stark cold, once Finnick pops his lips off her, has Annie gasping as a shiver rolls down her spine. However, the heat of his mouth continues to follow along the coolness of her skin as he rolls her onto her back.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Finnick starts, his voice sultry and thick as he kisses her blow the breast. “Now that we’ve got all our misunderstandings sorted…”

Another well placed kiss to her stomach has Annie bucking her hips.

“And you’ve been very _very_ clear on exactly what your problem with Cashmere is…”

Annie succumbs to her urge to moan while Finnick’s lips touch the skin above the hem of her gray sweats.

 “I was wondering why not start to try and make that baby now.”

Her free hands make their way up the length of her thigh before diving beneath the waist band of her pants and pushing them impatiently down part of her thigh. Finnick helps tug them the rest of the way down, letting them pool at her ankles before he kisses his way back upwards.

“This could take some time and I’d rather not miss an opportunity.”

Annie’s dainty fingers sift through his thick, bronze hair and grasp him tightly once she can feel his lips brush against her labia.

“How does that sound to you?” he asks, his eyes flickering up at hers excitedly.

All she can manage is a nod once his tongue runs up the seam of her slick folds. Her hips push up, demanding more with each flick of wet heat that teases her swelling bundle of nerves.  Annie’s grip on his hair tightens with each snap of her hips and breathy gasp as he sucks and worries her clit.

Just as she feels the coil in her stomach about to spring loose, Finnick peels his lips off of her.  The sound of his belt hitting the floor has her smiling from ear to ear even before she can open her eyes.

Slinking her arms around his neck, Annie pulls Finnick down on top of her, to kiss every inch of his face. Locking her ankles around his lower back, Annie brings her husband forward, forcing him towards her dripping core with a groan. With a quick adjustment of his hips, Finnick slides himself in with a moan synonymous to Annie’s.

Wary of his force as he pumps his hips, Finnick is careful not to shake the bed too much. With Noah only a few feet away, it is best not to wake him from the sound of the backboard slamming against the wall.

“Annie, I’m close,” he mumbles, as her hips snap into his violently. A moan in acknowledgement passes her lips before capturing him in one final kiss before he comes.

His even thrusts have Annie over the edge in a blinding moment of electrical currents and accelerated heart beats moments after he finishes. Falling beside her, Finnick drags Annie into his chest, holding her close.

“I’m sorry I got mad earlier.”

With heavy lids, Finnick turns to his wife and kisses the top of her head. “You had every right to be. I’m sorry I hadn’t been honest with you.”

Snuggling closer into his perspiration covered body, Annie kisses his cheek. “I forgive you, just please don’t do it again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, yawning. “You’re too important.”

As his eyes fall shut, Annie remains awake a little while longer as thoughts of having a baby to call her own swirls in her head. The rhythmic beat of her heart is filled with excitement and joy before succumbing to be riddled with anxiety. Shaking her head, she erases the idea of possibly losing the non-existent child. It’s silly to worry about such a thing now.

Rolling over to find Finnick, sprawled across his side of the bed, Annie recoils herself into his body and falls into a sound sleep dreaming contently about her, Finnick, Noah and the baby.

 

* * *

 


	14. 3 am (Finnick, Johanna)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't exactly what I promised and it's set much further in the past then the last chapter - which I apologize for but I hope you enjoy this chapter immensely! Dedicated to Baronesskika whom I love so so very much. :)

* * *

 

 

Noah is every bit as stubborn and persistent as his mother and right now it makes Finnick want to pull a Van Gogh and cut off his ears.

He’s tried everything from rocking him, to feeding him, to playing peek-a-boo with Noah’s chubby toddler hands but nothing is calming the crying boy long enough to let his exhaustion consume him.  
  
Checking the clock on the way back to the bedside table, having just paced the entire house four times, when Finnick realizes he’s got three more hours before he needs to be up for work.

Fuck work. Fuck having to go in and listen to Seneca Crane complain about some numbers he pretends to understand. But Finnick has no other choice, as Noah’s sole provider he needs the money. Hopefully, Peeta won’t mind watching him for the day.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Finnick,” Johanna growls from the door frame, her eyes drooping around their dark circles. “Just put the little shit down already. He’s giving me a headache.”

Shooting her with a sharp glare, Finnick ceases bouncing the boy in his arms. Their eyes snap down at the sweaty toddler’s as he rubs his eyes furiously and with a sigh, Finnick admits defeat. Placing the boy onto the empty side of the bed, thankfully, the crying melds down into hiccups.

Stripping Noah from his sleep sack, and sweat soaked pajamas Finnick and Johanna can almost hear the boy sigh in relief.

Checking the diaper, it miraculously stayed dry through the endeavour.

Finnick strips down, keeping one eye on the bed, before he crawls onto the inviting mattress and pillow that his body welcomes with instant sleep.

It isn’t until several hours later and he’s sitting at the conference table at the office, gulping down his coffee that his phone thrills in signal of a message.

 _“A little motivation.”_ Is all the text says before a picture pings into his inbox. The smile that bursts onto his face has an energy flowing through his veins that puts caffeine to shame.

_“I think I can get through the week now. Thanks, Anna."_

_“Any time ;)”_  She replies a second later. _“Now knock ‘em dead, or I’ll come in there and do it myself. ”_

Chuckling to himself, Finnick turns the screen off of his phone just as Seneca the parade of department heads file into the room looking their boring, sleep deprived selves in their black suits, white shirts and black ties.

The wave of monotony nearly drags Finnick right back down with the rest of them. Flicking his phone back on for a second and looking down at the picture of his sleeping little bundle of joy stretched out like a starfish, sends an electric pulse through him.

A week was an understatement. As long as he has Noah, he’ll get through his entire lifetime.

 

* * *

 


	15. This is Halloween (Noah, Finnick, Johanna)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For baronesskika whom I would not be half as motivated to write Noah if it weren't for her. Happy Early Birthday! 
> 
> Banner by the lovely Ro Nordmann. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. However, I am in possession of my original characters (Noah Odair, Ivy Abernathy, Caius Snow, Rosy & Aidyn Mellark). I am also in possession of the content my stories & the scenarios my characters partake in.

  


 

* * *

  
  
  
“Noah,” he groans, feeling the familiar pulsing behind his eyes and pinching along the bridge of his nose as a headache forms.“You’ve had weeks to decide, how come you still don’t know?”   
  
“I do know!” Noah shouts pointedly at his father. “But you won’t let me wear my swimsuit!”   
  
Removing his thick framed glasses in hopes to thwart some of the escalating pain, Finnick  stares down at his son with blurry vision. “It’s going to be rainy and cold on Halloween, I don’t want you to get sick. It’s bad enough Johanna’s letting you have candy before bed.”   
  
“It’s tradition for a kid to get to sample their loot on Halloween night,” Johanna says over the couch.

 

“Don’t,” Finnick grits his teeth, sending a jolt of pain up through his skull.

  
“What? I’m serious, it’s trad--”

 

“I’m not going to get sick,” Noah interjects, crossing his arms over his chest. “I want to wear my swim trunks. I want to be a diver like Daddy and Uncle Gale.” His voice takes on a high pitch whine while tears begin to bubble in his eyes. Finnick can feel the throbbing in his skull more potently as Noah grabs at his shirt threatening to tear it.   
  
“Noah, please,” Finnick says softly, trying to relax the boy and get his ears to stop ringing. “We have to find something else for you to wear. How about we get you pumpkin costume or you wear the dragon costume from last year,  you really like that costume.”

  
“NO!” he wails, tears pouring down his face like rain. “I wanna be a diver!”

 

As if an axe comes down the middle of his skull, Finnick feels himself split him down the center like a cartoon character. With his tolerance completely worn away, Finnick throws his blubbering child over his shoulder and drops him firmly onto his bed.

 

The hiccup in the boy’s crying has Noah looking up at his father, confusion riddled in his eyes. Finnick gathers his son’s sleep wear, tossing it beside the sniffling boy.

 

“It’s not bed time,” Noah mutters.

 

“Nothing wrong with getting a few extra hours of sleep when you’re this tired,” Finnick changes the boy from his day clothes and tucks him beneath the white duvet instead of the one patterned with the solar system.

 

Laying down beside him, he runs his fingers through his son’s thick, wavy hair until he can hear Noah’s breath begin to even out. A long, loud yawn passing through Noah’s lips draws a smile onto Finnick’s face.

 

As the pain in Finnick’s head calms to all but a dull ache, it roars again when the floorboards of their ancient townhouse creek with Johanna’s heavy, footfalls. Noah’s head perks with interest but is too tired to slide from the bed to greet his Auntie Johanna.

 

Crawling into bed beside him, she wraps her arms around his waist and touches a kiss to Noah’s pasty forehead.

 

“Long day at school, kiddo?” Johanna asks above a whisper.

 

Finnick feels his son’s head bob against his arm.

 

“What’cha do today?” Finnick inquires.

 

All he receives is a lackadaisical shrug.

 

"Annie liked the poem you wrote her."

 

"Oh yeah," Finnick’s grin illuminates the room like a night light.

 

"She told me to tell you that you made her smile and that she will see you Saturday," Noah frowns. "Why are you seeing her Saturday?"

 

"Because it's the only day she's free?" Finnick looks at his son quizzically. "Is there something special happening on Saturday that I don't know about?"

 

"No," he yawns. "But if you're not at work, you're with Annie at night. I'd really like to see you before bedtime," Noah curls further into his father's side. "I miss having dinner with you and watching tv with you. It's not the same with Uncle Peeta or Haymitch."

 

Touching a kiss to Noah's head, Finnick tightens his hold on his son. "You need to tell me when something I do bothers you, okay?"

 

"Okay."

 

"Promise?"

 

"Prom--" Noah's voice trails off as sleep steals his consciousness. They wait until this gentle snores fill the room before lifting themselves from the mattress and leaving the boy to sleep in peace.

 

"So are you gonna go Trick-or-treating with him this y--"

 

"You knew he felt his way and you didn't tell me," Finnick drives the pads of his fingers into his temple as the headache from earlier comes rolling through his temples like a thunder storm.

 

Throwing herself down onto the couch she sighs, "I was gonna bring it up tonight."

 

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

 

"Because it's not the kinda conversation you have over the phone during a lunch break," propping her feet up on the coffee table, Johanna settles back into her groove and watches as men skate across the muted screen.

 

"I don't know why I thought he'd be okay with this. I knew I was pushing my luck," Finnick runs a hand through his hair and down his face. "I'm such an idiot."

 

"Yeah you are but not because of this," Johanna smirks. "Noah loves having dinner with Peeta and Haymitch, they spoil the crap outta him. You should see what kinda murder Noah gets away with, its like he's Jerry and they're that dog that stands in between Tom and Jerry."

 

"That's lovely," Finnick tries not to smile as falls back onto the sofa with Johanna. Loosen his tie and unclasping his belt, he sinks further into the leather idly watches the silent hockey game.

 

The Redhawks are losing 2-3.

 

"I can solve the costume problem if you promise to take your son out for Halloween," Johanna says.

 

"You've got something he'll like?"

 

"He'll love it. Keeps with the whole 'my family comes from kickass athletes' theme," Johanna grins to herself. Finnick chuckles.

 

"You're a life saver."

 

"Yeah yeah so I've heard," she reaches out to pat Finnick on the leg. "Just don't forget to leave work early Friday."

 

"I won't."

 

"You better, or I'm coming down to kick your overworked ass outta that chair myself.

 

"Yes ma'am," Finnick salutes with a chuckle.

  
  


****

  
  


Pacing frantically between the family room, the kitchen and his bedroom, Noah debates whether or not to knock on the door to see what is taking his Dad so long. It's already 7 o'clock and his bedtime is in an hour.

 

"Daddy you’re taking too long," Noah says, voice weavering. "All the good candy is gonna be gone if we don’t go now!"

 

“Hold your horses, I’m almost done!” Finnick calls from beyond the wooden separating them. With an exaggerated sigh, Noah stomps back into the family room where he slumps into the chair.   
  
“Hey buddy, watch the jersey, I’ve had that since I was your age,” Johanna rushes over to even out the wrinkles in the hockey jersey he’s wearing.   
  
Just as Johanna predicted, Noah adored the idea of wearing his Auntie Jo’s red,white and blue hockey jersey from when she was a kid. He hadn’t known there was hockey in somewhere as warm as Miami but she assured him that her reflexes wouldn’t be as quick if there wasn’t.

 

“Now if only your dad would’ve let me paint a black eye on yeah it’d be perfect,” Kneeling down, she pushes the helmet down over his head and hands him a Vancouver Canucks pillow case for this candy before admiring her work.

“I don’t want someone getting the wrong idea and calling child services,” Finnick sighs heavily, spooking Noah and Johanna. For a man his stature, FInnick is uncharacteristically quiet.   
  
Looking past his Aunt, Noah’s turquoise eyes narrow as they trail up and along the length of his father’s body. Wrapped head to toe in a scaly green body suit with a gold tiara resting atop his crown and a fish tail dragging behind him, Finnick leans up against the length of the gold tipped trident secure in his hands.

 

“What are you, Daddy?” Noah’s brows knit together in puzzlement only for Johanna’s laughter to force his bottom lip to jut in a pout. “What?!”   
  
“N-no...n-no...N-noah it’s not you,” Johanna coughs as she pulls air back into her lungs. “It’s...Finnick please tell me you’re not a merman.”

 

Finnick hums as he shrugs his shoulders, “Kinda.”

 

“A sea monster with weapon?” Noah guesses.

 

“Not quite.”

 

“Aquaman?”   
  
“Nope.”

  
“Poseidon?” Johanna presses her luck.

 

Finnick shakes his head.

 

“God, Daddy, just tell us already, we have to go,” Noah rolls his eyes. Johanna nearly breaks out into another fit of giggles.   
  
“The Starbucks Mascot,” Finnick grins as his creative brilliance earns him a fist bump approval from Johanna after she peels herself off the ground from where she had fallen in her wheezing laughter.   
  
“Leave it to you to come up with a coffee related costume,” Johanna shakes her head as she follows behind Finnick whom is being dragged violently towards the door by Noah.

 

“We’ve been working on our campaign with Starbucks all week. I’ve been doing is stare at those paper cups, can you blame me?” Finnick asks with a sheepish grin as Noah guides them down the concrete stairs and onto the sidewalk where Katniss waits with Aidyn sitting in the stroller and Rosy bouncing on her toes with a bag  half full of candy already. If Katniss is intrigued by Finnick’s choice in costume, it doesn’t show.  
  
Shaking her head, Johanna wishes them well and requests Noah bring back twice as much candy so she can have some too. The promise dies along the cutting wind as Noah slides his fingers between those of his father’s and walks to the first house with the porch light on.

 

“Thanks for coming with us, Daddy,” Noah presses himself into his father’s side.   
  
“Of course, kiddo,” Finnick squeezes the boy’s hand. “I’m sorry that I made it seem like I didn’t want to.”

 

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it,” Noah says, pulling away from his father’s grasp and following Rosy, who bolts up to a house with a skeleton hanging from the front door.

 

Turning around, hopefully to meet his father’s eyes, Noah is startled by their close proximity. How did he get up here so fast? Taking another long look at his father’s costume before the people open the door Noah shakes his head.

 

“Next year, pick a costume that isn’t weird, okay?”

 

“I don’t know, if you want me to come with you I’m gonna dress up weird,” Finnick says just before the door swings open and Rosy and Noah chant ‘trick-or-treat’ in unison. Gathering their candy, along with an extra piece for Aidyn, they head back down to meet Katniss who takes lead, guiding them to the next house.   
  
Stopping at every home that still has a light on, Finnick can’t recall a time in the last week when Noah was this overcome with joy as much as he is now.

 

By the time they arrive back home, the boy can barely keep his eyes open. Wiggling him out of his costume, he is fast asleep before he can ask to try a piece of his candy.

 

Slipping into pajamas with a layer of fleece, Finnick watches the gentle rise and fall of Noah’s body. There will be a time when Noah will outgrow all of this; where his pajamas won’t fit, he won’t need his teddy bear Oatmeal to cuddle when he sleeps or throw a tantrum when he can’t spend an evening with his father.

  
Finnick doesn’t want to see that day; not just yet.   
  
Pushing back the dark, sweaty waves that curl around Noah’s forehead, Finnick leans down and presses a kiss to the boy’s head. “Good night, my little boy. Dulces sueños.”  
  
  
  


* * *

 


	16. Shaving (Finnick & Noah)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For BaronessKika who i made cry in five words or less. I'm sorry, forgive me? And a big huge enormous thank you to sohypothetically for the speedy beta work! I really appreciate it! This wasn't the chapter I was hoping to update with but the one i was planning is a nice long one :) I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

“Alright. That’s enough, kiddo. Bath time’s over.” Finnick smiles as he gets splashed in the face from the boat that Noah smashes into the water. Picking up his son’s hooded shark towel from where it rests beside the tub, Noah’s moan of tragic disappointment has Finnick erupting with laughter as the boy abides by his words.

 

Having let Noah play with his abundance of bath toys for a solid hour, Finnick watched his son use every inch of his imagination to stage a battle between the people on the patrol boats and the rubber ducks. Unfortunately, he took the side of the rubber ducks (as per Noah’s  instructions) and lost the battle with one baby duck and his daddy to spare. The boy refused to let the baby duck be without his Daddy, it wasn’t fair.

 

Once Noah stands up and lets himself be wrapped by his thick, dry towel, he looks like a giant prune with a hint of blue running the length of his lips.

  
“Can I pull the plug, Daddy?” Noah asks, excitement in his sea green eyes.

 

“Of course you can.” Finnick smiles, drying some of the soaking curls with the hood.

Watching the water swirl down the drain always fascinates Noah. Where does it go? Why does it swirl and no flow like a waterfall? Finnick feels his heart swell with Noah’s enthusiasm; nothing makes him happier than to know his son loves the water as much as he does.

 

“I wanna wear the fishy pajamas tonight,” Noah insists as Finnick dries the rest of the boy off. Johanna isn’t going to be happy if they trek water out onto the hardwood floors, the last thing they need on their financial plate is mold growing beneath the boards.

 

“Your fishy pjs are in the hamper so I set out your dragon footie pjs instead,” Finnick calls back as he steps into their bedroom plucking said sleepwear off the solar system bedspread.   
  
“Dad,” Noah stops in the doorway, hands on his hips with a frown on his face. If his hair were longer and tied in pigtails he’d look like Rosy. “Footie pjs are for babies. I’m not a baby anymore, I’m six.”

 

“My brother wore footie pajamas until he was ten.”

 

“I’m not him. I’m don’t wanna wear ‘em,” Noah huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Spoil the boy with extra bath time and get a tantrum in return; sometimes Noah was just like his mother.

 

“Alright then,” Finnick drops the clothes back onto the bed and crosses to the mattresses to the drawers where he pulls out a pair of sweats for himself. “Then you’ll get have to go to bed in your wet towel.”

 

“It’s not wet anymore. Se-” Running over to Finnick holding out the sleeve of his robe-like towel for his dad to touch, Noah stops. He watches in awe as his dad pulls his shirt over his head revealing vague lines that were once well defined muscles. He’s seen his father in old photos with Gale. Now, it didn’t seem so farfetched that his Dad was an Olympic diver.

 

Almost.

 

Noah’s bite sized heart sinks to the pit of his stomach like a penny would in a fountain. Except he can’t make a wish.He wants to, however, he knows his Dad would be very sad without him around, but he wishes he could turn back time and give his dad his old life back. That way, he could see Mama and have a chance to compete at the Olympics.   
  
“Noah.”

 

The boy hears his name with a jolt and realizes his Dad is kneeling in front of him, cupping his cheeks, his eyes crinkled with concern. “You really don’t have wear the pajamas if you don’t want to. I like the ones that say ‘Hunk’ on them better anyways.”

 

Nodding his damp, matted waves Noah slips out from the towel and doesn’t kick up a fuss when his father helps him change into the dry, flannel sleep clothes.

 

“Doesn’t that feel better?” Noah nods again as he trudges over to his bed and pulls back the covers. He just wants to snuggle with Oatmeal for a little while, maybe then he’ll feel less sad.   
  
“Where do you think you’re going, monster? Didn’t you forget something?” Finnick smiles, scooping his boy out of bed and up into his arms. Puzzlement quirks in every line of Noah’s face as he contemplates his father’s words. What was he forgetting? He had dessert, took his bath… oh!   
  
“Brush my teeth!” Noah finds a burst of energy as Finnick wriggles his fingers in his son’s ticklish sides.

 

Making their way back to the bathroom, Noah sits on the counter, dangling his feet as his dad puts the toothpaste on the tooth brush for him. After he coated the whole sink and making Auntie Jo grumble about waste the last time he tried, Noah wasn’t allowed to do it by himself again.

 

What he could do by himself was the act of brushing. It was easy and he got to practice counting to twenty. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Elev-

 

“Daddy, what’cha doing?” Noah stops counting when he catches the most peculiar thing in the mirror. A dense blob of white foam sits in the palm of Finnick’s hand as he scoops portions of it onto his face, lathers it around his cheeks, under his chin and along his neck.

 

“Putting shaving cream on,” Finnick dabs a spot onto his son’s wrinkling nose.

 

“Why?” Noah spits into the sink before putting the toothbrush on the sink.

 

“Because I’m going to shave.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I don’t want to go to work tomorrow looking like my boss,” Finnick laughs at the thought of Seneca Crane.

 

“You’re gonna shave the hair off your face?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Noah glances away from his Dad to his own face in the mirror. Leaning in, he looks for proof that he too has little hairs growing out from above his lip and around his jaw but can’t find any. Searching again, Noah feels for the scruff but his fingers find nothing but smooth skin.

“Do you wanna try, too?” Finnick smiles at his boy as he uncaps the plastic from the razor head. The frown tugging at the corners of Noah’s mouth pull up quickly as the frustration in his eyes is overcome with joy.

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Alright, let me show you first okay?” Wetting the blades, Finnick drags the first line of foam off his face with ease eliciting an enthusiastic gasp.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Finnick watches Noah watch him, awestruck like he was watching the water swirl down the drain. When he drags the razor, making it’s penultimate line through the foam, Finnick catches the squeak that comes from his son’s mouth.

 

“Daddy, can I try the last one?” Noah asks, scooting closer on the counter to Johanna’s sink.

 

“Sure, just be careful. Go really slow, Noah.” Finnick tilts back his head as he hands his son the razor.

 

Holding the tool as steady as he can in his tiny hands, Noah touches the blades to the underside of his father’s chin before he stops. The blades in the razor are sharp like the blades on the knives in Uncle Peeta’s kitchen, and even though Noah knows how good his Uncle is with a knife, he has cut himself too.

 

“Daddy, I don’t wanna do it. I’m scared,” Noah hiccups as tears bubble in his eyes. His hands tremble as he passes back the razor.

 

“Scared of what?”

 

“That I’m gonna to hurt you. I don’t wanna hurt you. ”

 

Finnick offers his son a gentle, sad smile. “Sometimes, you’re so much like your mother.”  Noah’s chin perks up as Finnick places the utensil back into his son’s hand, this time, wrapping his fingers around the smaller ones. “How about we do it together, hm?”

 

Noah’s wavy locks bob as Finnick slowly but surely lets the blades glide along the final line of foam. The trembling in Noah’s hand doesn’t cease until after they unfurl from around the plastic handle. His Dad dries off his face and picks him up off the counter.

 

“See that wasn’t so bad,” Finnick chimes as the boy throws back the blanket on his father’s bed. “It’ll take a bit of practice but you’ll have years to learn.”

 

“Yeah,” Noah says distantly, squeezing Oatmeal’s body as he nestles into his father’s side.

 

“What’s wrong?” Concern laces Finnick’s voice and he wraps an arm around Noah securely.

 

“Can you tell me a story about you and Mama?”

 

Finnick feels his throat begin to tighten up as his tongue grows dry. If there was a story that he could tell that didn’t include an array of college related tomfoolery, he would tell Noah every story he could about his mother. But there isn’t. Unless...he could tweak a few details, add a little something lighthearted for the boy to hold onto. Make his mom seem more like a Disney princess and less like of a real one.

  
“Alright. Hmm...how about the time Mama told me she loved me?” This story required the least amount of adjusting. Cashmere had said she loved him but how she meant it was something else.   
  
“Mama told you she loved you?!” Noah sits up, eyes shining. “Tell me! Tell me!”  
  
“Okay, okay.” Finnick pulls his son back underneath the covers before transposing a bland shopping trip with an unexpected ending into a tale of enchantment with secret kisses and a young couple’s love fueled by the thought of becoming parents.    
  
Finnick paints a glowing grin on her face for Noah instead of the overtired half-smile he remembers her wearing that day. “She was beautiful, y’know. Kinda like Cinderella, except without the ballgown. Though, as we made our way down the aisle to the back of the store, it was as if she was dancing. She was so happy to be having you even though she was also very scared.”   
  
“That’s why you were there, right?” Noah let’s out a yawn.

 

“That’s why I was there…” Finnick smiles sadly, running his fingers through the boy’s damp locks. ”So we’re looking through all these racks, and from what I could see your Mama had a theme going. Lots of blue, green and ocean-y things, everything that reminded her of me. She was convinced from the get go that you were gonna be a mini-me. Who knew she’d be right?”

 

Noah’s laugh tinkles like a wind chime as his dad taps the tip of his nose.

 

“So we’ve got the cart piled high with onesies, shoes, shorts and t-shirts when I turn to Mama with these nifty sunglasses and I catch her staring at me with those big blue eyes of hers. She looked about ready to cry. I ask her is if she’s alright when she puts the hanger back on the rack, wraps her arms around my neck and gives me a big kiss,” Finnick divulges.

 

For the most part, this was true. Cashmere had looked about ready to cry but she didn’t kiss him - in fact she only ever kissed him twice after their first night together- and smiled as she wrapped her arms around his core, holding onto him.

  
“I could taste your Mama’s cherry lip gloss when she pulled away and smell the pomegranate from her shampoo when she leaned in and whispered in my ear, ‘I love you’.”

 

“D-did you tell her you loved her too, Daddy?” Noah’s voice is raspy as his eyes droop heavily with oncoming sleep.

 

Finnick smiles, touching a kiss to his son’s head; he refuses to lie to Noah unnecessarily. Thankfully, the boy doesn’t seem to notice the answer that refuses to come as sleep pulls him under completely. He leaves Finnick alone with the dancing images of Cashmere, pale as a ghost with her overly-painted eyes and cracked lips curled into a pathetic smile. Speaking empty promises and half-hearted apologies for hurting him. But Finnick had known that later those lips would sink into a grimace as they blamed him for everything she could think of.   
  
Turning his gaze from the ceiling to his son, Finnick watches the rise and fall of the boy’s body as he clutches his well-loved teddy bear between his hands. All the boy wants is his mother, that really shouldn’t be so much to ask.

 

She did (does) want Noah, she just didn’t (doesn’t) want him. Who knows, maybe in the course of the past six years, and with two more children of her own, she’s become a better parent. A wiser person. Less brash.

 

With a sigh, Finnick slips out from between the sheets and grabs his cellphone before toeing as quietly as he can into the darkened hallway of their lifeless townhouse. Johanna isn’t due home for another seven hours.

  
He wakes up the phone and scrolls through the contracts on the bright screen until he finds what he’s looking for. The dial tone rings and rings and rings then clicks and a hello pushes through the receiver like a gasp.   
  
“Hi, Cash. It’s Finn.” he runs his a shaky hand through his hair. “I think we’re ready now.”

 

* * *

 


	17. Running From Lions [pt. 1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before his hockey tournament, Noah gets to have dinner with his whole family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: This chapter is gifted to BaronessKika - whose birthday was 2 months ago- and to InLoveWithClatoLove. Thank you thank you thank you to sohypothetically for the beta work! I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, this has a second part to it that i’ll be tackling after I finish up my Odesta, Odashmere entry for streetlightlove’s charity event Stories to Save Lives. You can preview my teaser here. Enjoy!

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Daaad! Annnie! Marvel just texted, he said they’re heading to the hotel, I’m going to go pick ‘em up okay?” Noah calls from the front door as he slips on a pair of sandals and shoves a pair of his Dad’s sunglasses into his back pocket. Opening the door and taking a step out onto their snowy porch when the sound of a clearing throat stops him in his tracks. Shit.

Slowly turning towards the culprit, Noah finds himself towering over Annie whose those crisp, teal eyes pierce him. He may be six feet tall now but he’s still intimidated by the intensity in his stepmother’s stare and the ‘who do you think you’re fooling?’ rise of her eyebrow. Where he has succeeded in convincing his father of his sense of responsibility, Annie isn’t as willing to let him off the hook just yet, he is only sixteen after all.

“I’m just going to go pick them up, I’m not even really getting out of the car so I don’t need boots or a jacket. If anything, are you okay to be outside without a coat?" Noah says frantically, staring down at her swollen belly. All it earns him is a snort.

"Maggie and I won't get sick that easily." she smiles at him.

"You're sure?" Noah's loved his baby sister from the moment they told him Annie was pregnant.

"Yes." Annie rolls her eyes. "You are no doubt your father's son."

Noah shrugs sheepishly.

"Before you leave, is there anything you're forgetting?"

"I already told you I don't need--"

"That's all well and good but I don't think you’ll be able to get there without these." Annie shakes her head as she drops the car keys in his hand. Flushing, Noah averts his gaze from his stepmother to the car before leaning down to kiss her cheek and patting the enlarged baby bump.

“Drive safely,” she turns back into the house closing the door gently behind her as Noah skips down the stairs and slides into the driver’s seat of his father’s new Audi. The crisp, fresh smell of the black leather has Noah sinking into the unmolded seat as his fingers ghost over the course ridges of the tightly wrapped mesh of the steering wheel. Nineteen more months and he’ll have a luxury car of his own, as long as his Mom keeps her word.

Backing out onto the street, Noah straddles the speed limit up until he pulls into Clove’s driveway. She waits for him, bundled on the front steps like it’s minus forty, even though it’s barely below zero.

Slipping into the passenger seat, Clove rips her gloves off her fingers and wraps them beneath Noah’s jaw, catching wisps of the hair hugging the nape of his neck before melding their mouths together in a molten kiss. Grasping the front of her jacket, he pulls her over the divider, sweeping the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips coaxing them open with ease.  She tastes like peppermint.

The vibrations of his cellphone in the cup holder jolt them apart. Settling back in her seat, Clove buckles up as Noah types back to his half-brother that he’s on his way.

“Hey there.” Clove coos as she weaves her fingers through his while he travels towards the highway.

“Hey yourself.” A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his hand grips hers. “How’d the game go this afternoon? Sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“Don’t worry, all you would have seen is Rosy single-handedly kicking the other team’s ass as I sat there warming the bench. No big deal."

“Yeah, she told me.” Noah glows with pride, a a grin breaking out onto his face. Many had their doubts, Noah included. Rosy's hard work, allowed her to prove her worth. With her sinewy arms and petite stature, she was the underdog to make the cut for the Ringette team. “I can’t don’t believe that she actually got the ring to ricochet off the other goalie’s skate and into the net. Her handling isn’t that good yet.”

“It was an accident. The goalie was anticipating Rosy’d get it in the left corner but she well...she missed... and it hit the girl’s skate instead.”

“I knew it! Rosy owes me lunch.” The car swerves from his excitement. Clove gasps as Noah straddles the left lane before he maneuvers the car back to the center.

“What are you trying to do, get us killed!?” she pants with wide, wild eyes.

“Sorry!”

“You better be.” Clove side-eyes him before staring out at the black tar of the highway splashed in headlights. The hum of the car fills the gaps in their silence until she decides with a huff to turn on the satellite radio. Making them both erupt into laughter as The Wheels on the Bus pumps through the speakers.  

“S-seriously, Noah?” Clove laughs.

“Dad must have been in the car with Annie. Since they found out that Maggie can hear in the womb they’ve been pretty adamant about playing music for her. I catch my Dad talking to her sometimes.”

“That’s really sweet,” Clove gushes as Noah gives a noncommittal shrug. “Do you think he talked to you too?”

“Mom told me he would talk to me all the time. He would ask me questions, make me wish him luck on finals.” Noah grips the steering wheel tightly, his turquoise eyes narrowing intensely as he watches the dark road. “She said it was one of the few times they could actually be in a room together and not get into an argument.”

“...that’s not true.”

“How would you know?” His eyes snap towards her, teeth clenched. The fear swimming in her brown eyes has Noah relaxing against the back of the seat and turning back towards the road.

"I-I asked Gwen," she stammers. "She said she actually enjoys dinner when your Dad is around." Of course Clove would ask Gwen. They've been friends since Noah introduced his half-sister to his girlfriend.

Noah shrugs. Five more kilometers until their exit.

Silence fills the car again while Clove flips through the stations trying not to land on one that’s playing Katy Perry or Bruno Mars.

“Do you think your Mom will change her opinion about me?” Turning off the satellite and scanning through the regular radio stations, she settles on the Alternative Rock station. Maybe they’ll get lucky enough to hear the DJ call someone at home from work.

“I can’t make any promises.”

Clove rolls her eyes. "Thanks for being comforting, Noah."

“What? Look...” He sighs, weaving their hands back together and touching a kiss to the back of her hand. “Of course I want her to like you and it’s not like I haven’t tried to convince her, but she’s stubborn. She probably doesn’t think anyone is good enough for me.”

“She seems to like Rosy well enough.” Her voice has an edge as Noah squeezes Clove’s hand tightly. He refuses to say anything more as he takes the off ramp, the hotel visible in the distance.

Noah wouldn’t call “well enough” a good approximation of how much his mother actually adores Rosy. Part of it may have to do with he and Rosy having been friends since before she could walk, but he’s more certain it’s because Rosy’s much more polite and girlish than Clove. He’s been told this appeals to his Mom’s sense of proper etiquette since she became a Victoria's Secret model fifteen years ago.

They drive up into the hotel parking lot to find a slew of paparazzi and gossip columnists climbing over each other to fit through the sliding doors of the building. His Mom must have arrived.

Dreading his Mom’s less than stellar reaction to the invading paparazzi, Noah rounds the corner, parking in a spot closest to the back. He slips on the pair of sunglasses while Clove pushes her hands back in her gloves and pulls her hat over her eyes. Maybe he should have worn a jacket and boots, no doubt these intrusive barbarians will want his picture too.

Forcing his way through the blinding, flashing lights with Clove’s hand securely in his, Noah catches sight of his Mom and Marvel as they set foot out of the elevator. She may look casual in her jeans and cashmere sweater, with her blond hair tied back in a neat ponytail, but he knows that she probably took hours getting ready.

“Mom,” Noah says just loud enough for that ponytail of hers with the glimmering scrunchy to whip around her neck. A radiant smile graces her lips before they fall into a scowl. He’s unsure if it’s because she’s spotted the swarm of journalists that rush towards them or if it’s Clove standing behind him.

Marvel is the one to greet him first, dropping his suitcase to the ground and pulling Noah into a bone crushing hug. For a thirteen year old, he's strong. "Aw man, it's good to see you! I've got a really great story to tell you. It’s about Glim--”

“Cashmere! Cashmere!” one over-eager journalist calls as they roughly push past Noah, sending Marvel to the ground. “Is it true about your daughter, is she really expelled from Brentwood? Where is she now? How are you and your husband taking it?” With the microphone an inch from her hollow cheeks, it gives Cashmere little room to squeeze herself out of the mob of cameras.

Noah watches in awe with how calm and cool his mother remains as more reporters shout her name, demanding answers he knows she’s unwilling to give. Lowering the Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses to the tip of her nose, her eyes reflect ice into each of the camera lenses.

“Would you all step back, I’d like to leave please,” her voice is as rich as flowing caramel yet commanding like a sergeant. Offering a smile to the press as their swarm dissolves, the click of her heels and the rolling of the suitcase in her hand resonate loudly all the way to the automatic doors. She turns back only to raise a perfectly shaped eyebrow in Noah’s direction.

“If I had any idea of where you parked, I would be there by now,” Cashmere says crisply.

“Right! Of course” Noah runs to catch up. It’d be nice if his family could be scandal free for a day.

 

***

 

“So, what’s with the other suitcase? You moving in or something?” Noah inquires, eyes focused on the road while Clove sits beside him in the passenger seat texting rapidly, a grin on her face. Must be Glimmer. Noah doesn’t see his girlfriend smile that brightly when talking to anyone but he or his half-sister.

"It’s for the baby,” Cashmere nonchalantly twirls a piece of hair framing her face. “On your father's last business trip up to L.A. we spent one afternoon going through Glimmer's baby outfits looking for things he and Annie might like for Maggie." his mother smiles with her pearly white teeth.

“Thanks Mom,” Noah says, smiling back at her through the rear view mirror. “I’m sure Annie will love it.”

“Your Dad is certain she will, particularly because these outfits don’t have any rhinestones on them,” She winks.

“Is that how Gwen got nicknamed Glimmer?” Clove’s head perks up, chiming in. Cashmere turns to stare pointedly at the painfully oblivious girl, her crystal eyes narrowing.

The comment was harmless curiosity, but Noah can feel his Mom simmering behind him; cursing Clove’s ignorance in her head.

“Hm, that would be right,” His mother answers Clove much to Noah’s shock, “So, you’re Clover, right? The girl dating my son?”

“Clove, actually. And yes, I’m dating No-”

“Uh. I could have sworn Gwen told me he was dating someone else now,” Cashmere clicks her tongue. “Such a shame you’re name isn’t Rosy, I would’ve had a personalized bracelet for you.”

Running a hand through his thick dark hair, Noah lets out a heavy sigh. Over the better part of a month he had made a point of requesting, during their multitude of Skype chats, that he wanted his mother to be kind to Clove even if she ended up not approving. However, his mother can’t seem to manage even that!

Reaching for Clove’s shaking fist, he unfurls her fingers and wraps them around his like algae to an anchor. Noah doesn’t have to be looking at her to see the glistening of frustrated tears in her eyes. He’d like nothing more than to take her in his arms, hold her close and, whisper how beautiful he thinks she is, how lucky he is to have her in his life. But they are in the car, still a ways away from his house, so the best he can do is bring her hand to his lips.

“I love you,” he whispers, the wool of her gloves muffling the sound. She doesn’t need to return the sentiment for the knot to loosen in his stomach and for his heart to warm: her smile is more than enough.

When Noah’s teal eyes flicker to the rear view mirror as he turns down his street, he catches the condemning look in his mother’s frigid stare. The courage he once felt dissipates in wisps, letting fear seep through the pores in of skin and settle in his nerves. A cataclysm of cackling fills his head as Cato Bosch’s smug brown eyes dance with delight. Shaking his head, Noah wills the image away but trickles of laughter remain.  

“You okay?” Clove’s voice calls him back. Soaking in the surroundings of his driveway and the well-lit front porch, Noah gasps for a breath as he feels his heart pounding a mile a minute.

 

“Noah?” she calls again. Finally able to regulate his breathing, Noah kisses the worry from Clove’s lips before plastering on the best smile he can.  It was tactic his father taught him, seamless of merit, until now.

 

 

***

 

“Daaad, Annie! I’m back!” Noah calls, dropping his mother’s suitcase in the front hallway. Disregarding the baggage, he rushes through the house and up to his bedroom, in desperate need of socks and a sweater. Rounding the corner on the second floor, he plows right into his father, who appears as to have just risen from a nap.

“You’re back,” Finnick says, adjusting his dark framed glasses on his nose. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Noah scrutinizes his father; eyeing the sloppy sweats, bedraggled hair lacking its usual gel and his sockless feet. “Dad...you can’t have dinner like that. Mom’s going to kill you.”

“Your Mom won’t give two shits that I’m even there, let alone what I wear,” Finnick says sharply.

“Sorry.” Noah’s eyes flicker to his bare feet.     

Finnick runs a hand through his hair tiredly, “No don’t be. You’re right. Annie’s going to be unimpressed if I go to have dinner without at least a pair of underwear on.”  

Noah scrunches his nose. Pushing past Finnick, he crawls over the mountains of laundry - dirty and clean - as well as textbooks and school work. Smelling the mounds of laundry for exactly what’s clean, Noah catches the hint of a sigh float through the air.

Casting his gaze up, Noah sees his father's attention is focused on the Canucks poster above his bed. Noah catches sight of the red tint rimming Finnick’s swollen eyes hidden carefully behind his glasses.

“Dad…” Noah’s voice takes on a crisp, authoritative tone, "What's wrong?"

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

"It's about Mom isn't it? I thought the two of you put your differences aside and finally agreed to be friends." Noah tries to keep his voice even. "I don't want to go back to being the only kid in this family who can't have a meal with their parents!"

"It won't come to that, again, I promise," Finnick says sincerely.

"Then what's wrong? Grandma die? Aunt Penny back in the poor house? Annie have another one of those irrational pregnancy episodes?"

Finnick shakes his head, as if to clear a discomforting thought. “Can you take Clove home before dinner? There’s something I’d like to discuss with just the family."

“I’ve been dating her for three years, Clove is family,” Noah says curtly. “Whatever you can say to us you can say to her.”

Finnick watches his son, sternly. “If this were anything less important, I wouldn’t care one way or another. However, I’d rather not have her go home and gossip about it with her mother.”

The cogs in Noah's brain whirl to decode his father's intention. With years of practice, he can read his dad almost as well as his dad can read him. He continues to sift through possibilities when a cry of garbled frustration comes from downstairs from none other than Clove.

Alarmed, Noah rushes down to see Clove seething from she stands in the living room. Marvel and Annie stand as if they are deer in headlights, while his mother looks down with a frigid gaze at Clove.

Noah doesn't ask. No one speaks up to tell him.

"H-how about we head into the kitchen? My Dad should be down any moment. He just had to change." The boy offers a smile, grabbing a hold of his girlfriend's petite shoulder and forcing her to walk towards the kitchen.

"It'll be nice to see him in fresh clothes," Annie says, smiling at Cashmere. "Finnick can be such a mess sometimes. Does Caius ever have those days?"

Cashmere glances at Annie before her gaze falls to her manicured nails. And now she's brushing off Annie? Clenching his fist, Peeta taught him that to control great waves of anger is to count backwards from twenty. His coach encourages him to smash the other kid into the sideboards.

"Even messy looks neat on Caius, he's by no means a sweatpants kind of guy. Unless he’s participating in a recreational sport.” Cashmere looks up, a fond smile gracing her lips as she takes a seat at the kitchen table. “That's what I like about your husband, Annie. He knows how to wind down.”

"It's nice, the glasses are my favourite touch," Annie says, falling into the seat beside her.

"They give him a tinge of sophistication," Cashmere adds.

Noah feels a long breath push itself from his lungs, but uneasiness settles in his stomach as he looks back at the table. He’s seen his father distraught often over their sixteen years together, many times the distress brought on tears; but not quite like this. Even Cashmere hasn’t brought on this kind of uncertainty. What could he possibly need to say that has him so spooked?

Taking the dishes out of the cupboard, he grabs enough for five places at the table. If his father wanted a family dinner, then they can have a family dinner.

“Noah, darling, aren’t you forgetting a place setting?” Cashmere asks as she folds napkins in half and places them next to each plate. Her blue eyes glow with curiosity as she folds a sixth napkin and puts it down on the winter themed placemats Annie bought.  

“Dad suggested I take Clove home…”

“After dessert.” Finnick smiles, a hand resting on his son’s shoulder before giving it a gentle squeeze. Noah doesn’t have to give his father a look in order for an answer to roll off the man's shoulders.

Running across the room, Noah grabs the cutlery as Clove grabs the missing plate. Taking their seats beside one another, he finds her hand beneath the table and squeezes. He’ll have to tell her later just how big a step they’re taking.

In his moment of euphoria, his mother’s bitter stare slips through what he thought were seamless cracks. Why couldn't she just let go already?

Finnick serves large spoonfuls of stew on white rice but they don't take their first taste until Marvel falls into the seat beside his mother.

The stew is every bit as mouth-watering as when Peeta serves the dish at Thanksgiving. Having made it all from scratch, there is a degree of freshness that the Odairs’ couldn’t replicate. Marvel and Clove’s sounds of delight and praise doesn’t break the heavy silence and spark idle chatter. Clove’s vibrating phone sounds as if it were a fog horn.

“Do you need to answer that?” Noah asks, scraping spoonfuls of lamb and rice off his plate and eagerly into his mouth.

“No, it’s alright. They can wait.” Clove smiles sweetly leaving the phone to vibrate on and off every couple minutes. Whoever is trying to get a hold of her needed to badly.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, answer your phone and tell the boy that’s calling you’re not ready to rendezvous yet,” Cashmere sneers.

Clove’s body becomes rigid, eyes wide and teeth bared as she appears ready to pounce and sink her nails into Cashmere’s face, “How dare you accuse me of cheating on my boyfriend. For all you know, my parents could be calling.”

“Please, I practically invented the bullshit you’re sprouting.” Cashmere rolls her eyes. “You’ve been attached to your phone since the car ride, there is no way you aren’t expecting whoever it is.”

“I wasn’t expecting a call at all,” Clove seethes.

“Then how do you know that whoever it is could have waited?” Cashmere goads, tossing her spoon onto her half full plate.

Much like when he was a child, Noah wants to run up to his room, dig his teddy bear out from a box beneath his bed and curl under his blankets. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Why was she doing this? Why couldn’t she not antagonize someone for one day?

“Go on, sweetheart. Tell us who demands you suck their dick while you’re having dinner with your boyfriend and his parents.” she watches with satisfaction as Clove begins to sweat in her search for the right words.

“N-noah,” Clove’s voice shakes, cheeks wet with tears while her small hand reaches out to him. “Cato and I are just friends. I’m not cheating on you.”

Cato. Had to be him didn’t it? Had to be the one person who relentlessly and creatively found ways to break him, making him feel like the worthless, illegitimate child of two irresponsible college kids. And once they started playing hockey for the same team, Noah felt what it was really like to break. He knew all the nurses in Emergency by name now.

Nausea bubbles and rests in the back of his throat, threatening to burn its way along the walls. Pushing back from the table, Noah madly dashes for the washroom when the simple act of breathing no longer controls the urge to retch.

“Couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?” Finnick spits.

“What was I supposed to do, let his girl walk all over him? Where’s his sense of pride, Finnick,” Cashmere snarls back .

Finnick counts to ten before he, too, leaves the table. Stomping along the hallway and up the stairs until the sounds of gagging, erratic breathing and the toilet flushing reaches his ears. Upon approaching he sees that the boy has his back against the bathtub staring up at the dome of a light fixture.

Sliding down beside him, Finnick feels Noah startle at the sudden company. All it takes is a lopsided smile and a pat on the knee for his son to erupt with tears.

“I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have brought Clove to dinner. I should have taken her home when you asked. I knew it wouldn’t work out, Mom was already giving her a hard time in the car. I don’t know why I thought I could change her mind.”

“Because you’re her son and you thought she’d do anything for you.” Finnick rests his cheek against the dry, frayed ends of Noah’s hair. “ Unfortunately, her real face came out.”

“I-Is that how she used to talk you?” Noah’s speech falters as he wipes his tears away with his thumb.

“Not quite,” Finnick says, flatly. “She’s a lot nicer to Clove.”

They sit in silence while the hum of low voices, the slam of the front door, and the rushing water from the kitchen sink fills the emptiness. The din of routine lulls Noah’s mind, racing heart, and churning stomach into an acceptable calm, giving him room to think before he speaks.

“You didn’t like me dating Clove, did you?” Noah finds his words, eyes overflowing with heartache. “You’d have preferred Rosy, too, right?”

“I didn’t like it when my parents told me who I could and couldn’t date. I was implementing what I would have liked to hear from my parents at sixteen,” Finnick says after a beat.

“Could you just answer a question straight for once?” Noah chides impatiently.

“I think you would have more fun with Rosy in the long term. She wouldn’t pressure you, let you do things at your pace.”

“Yeah...yeah, she would.” Noah smiles gently.

“You bounce back quickly don’t you,” Finnick laughs, nudging his son in the ribs. “That’s my boy.”

“Shut up.” a flush crawls on Noah’s cheeks. “I’m not interested in pursuing Rosy, it was just a question.”

“Okay, whatever you say.” Finnick raises his hands defensively as he lifts himself from the spot on the floor. “I support whatever decision you wanna make, just if you don’t think Rosy’s the girl for you, make sure you let her down easy.”

“Dad!” Noah rises to his feet too quickly wavering as the blood rushes to his head. Latching onto his father’s outstretched arms, he steadies instantly. “It’s far too soon. I don’t even know if I like her like that, or if she like likes me either.”

“Oh, she does. Girl’s had it bad for you for as long as I can remember.” Finnick smirks as he pads down the hallway towards the staircase. “So proud you’ve got your old man’s sensational charm.”

“Way to be humble,” Noah rolls his turquoise eyes as he steps in the opposite direction before pivoting to face his father.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell us?”

Finnick blinks once, twice, before the corner of his mouth curls up as his eyes shine. “We’ll talk about it later, just go and relax with Marvel. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“I know but …”

“Really. It’s fine. I should tell Annie first anyways, she’s gonna have the final say after all,” Finnick says, voice fading as he descends the stairs one step at a time until he reaches the main level. A tumbleweed passing through a ghost town would be louder than the hallway. Until the whistle of a kettle pierces through the silence and startles him.

“Annie," Finnick peers into the kitchen and dining room only to find her stretched out on the suede sofa watching some inane entertainment show. Her eyes, heavy with exhaustion lift to meet his. Four more weeks until she can get a couple nights of satisfying sleep.

Flopping down beside her, Finnick doesn't think twice about swinging his arm around her shoulders and drawing her in to use his chest as a pillow.

“Where’s Catherine?”

"She left with Marven while you were talking to Noah," Annie mumbles as her body threatens to shut down in slumber. "Went back to the hotel. Said she’ll meet us at the arena in the morning."

"Cath say why?" Holding her close and listening to Annie's shallow breathing Finnick assumes his wife has fallen asleep before finishing her explanation.

"Thought you and Noah could use some space."

"Ah. And Clove?"

“Left after Noah did, Cato was waiting outside for her in the driveway.” Annie hums around a yawn, "How is Noah doing?"

"As well as he can be."

"You shouldn’t have let her handle it," Annie says, cuddling in closer to her husband.  With her belly protruding as if it were a basketball, she can’t get as close as she’d like.

“She needed to let out some of her aggression. There’s been a lot on her mind lately,” Finnick trails off.

“Like?”

The inane program captures his full attention, or so he’d like Annie to think, but she knows him better than that. The way his teeth bite half of his cheek and he fiddles with right arm of his glasses speaks volumes. He’s thinking about the answer, trying to tread carefully.

“Like?” Annie presses.

“Gwen’s not in school right now. There was a mishap and they have to figure out how to get her back in school. Caius agreed to take some time off to help sort it all out, so he had Octavia send me an email...”

The rustle of clothes and the shift of weight on his body alerts Finnick’s attention back to Annie, whom is much more awake then she was a moment ago.

“Did he let you go?” Annie asks, barely above a whisper.

“A temporary leave of absence was one option. The other, a transfer out to Los Angeles to work out of the main office for the next six months,” Finnick doesn’t cower, staring right into Annie’s eyes he watches carefully for any sign of what she is thinking, but the blue-green irises swirl with nothing but their own colour. Her lips stretch in a tight line and she doesn’t blink. Her current state is more terrifying than when she opens her mouth in one of her hormonal spats.  

“Annie…”

The television turns off unexpectedly makes him jump and in the split second that his eyes dart to the TV, Annie is out of his lap and pacing towards the stairs. She stops just before the first step, dark, flowing hair whipping around her neck as she stretches out a hand to him. Rushing towards her, he scoops her up in his arms and plants a rough kiss on her.

“You’re not mad?”

“Not at you.” She places another kiss to his lips once they reach the second floor landing. “But we’ll talk about that in the morning.”

Finnick grins as Annie guides him into their bedroom. He closes the door behind them, letting the latch catch softly. Neither bother to lock the door, trusting that neither Noah nor Marvel will need them at any point in the next ten minutes. This leaves Annie to slip out of her constraining outfit and into her nightgown with Finnick watching her.

His eyes settle on the baby bump the moment Annie’s shirt falls to the ground. Finnick would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited: four more weeks and he’ll be a father of two. A much wiser and prepared father of two. A father to a child who will never be pulled this way and that by the law or by bullies. A father to a child who will look in the mirror and never have to wonder which features may have belonged to her mother. Nothing will change how much Finnick loves his son, but he doesn’t want to see Maggie hurt like Noah. Which makes his decision that much harder to make.

Annie slips the nightgown over her head and it drapes over Maggie drawing Finnick’s eyes back to her exhausted face. She crawls on top the cream-coloured sheets and pats the empty space beside her.

Every night for the last six months, he’s talked to Maggie lovingly, told her how much he loves her and wants her, until Annie forces him to stop before she starts to cry. He offers the unborn child sweet dreams before placing a kiss to the peak of Annie’s belly then to her mouth. Tonight is no different.

“Annie,” he calls tangling his fingers into the wisps of her hair as she places her head down onto his chest.

“Hm?”

“Do you think we could survive off our savings for six months?” Finnick asks softly, sea green eyes making constellations in the popcorn ceiling.

“I think we could live off current savings long into retirement,” Annie mumbles. “But right now you need to put your head on the pillow and listen for the crashing waves. Feel for the warmth of the hot, Miami sun on your cheeks, and fall asleep in your Grandmother’s sun room like you said you used to when you were a boy.”

The effect Annie’s words have on Finnick are instantaneous. He can picture Mags’ sun room like he had just visited earlier that afternoon. The wind chimes sing as the open window brings a fresh waft of ocean air to dance around the room. Tension slides from Finnick body and he sinks into the density of the mattress without effort.

Sleep finds him easily and when his dreams begin, it’s Maggie with her mother’s glowing grin who comes out to play first. 

* * *


	18. life is already unfair without us meddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta wants a child of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you forever to jeniezee my lovely, fantastic beta :) This chapter is a bit of a throwback, but next will meet the time frame of chapter 17. Enjoy!   
> Submitted to promptsinpanem @ tumblr round 4 day 4.

* * *

  
Though numerous scenarios run through his mind, each exploring a new way to change the outcome of last night’s conversation plaguing him with the need to wake her and apologize profusely, ultimately, it is the patter of rain against the open windows that keeps him up.

 

The foggy open windows invite the inklings of warm wind to blend with the air circulating from the  spinning ceiling fan that rotates at an alarming speed. Throwing back the thin bed sheet and tossing his legs over the edge of the bed one at a time, Peeta hobbles over to check the dial. Katniss insisted she has the fan running on the lowest setting, but he needs to be sure; the way the blades cut through the air, it feels as if they could snap off and decapitate him at any moment.He shudders at the thought.

 

With a heavy sigh, Peeta heads back to bed when he confirms Katniss' claim but he sounds of a car from the street below halt his course. Making his way closer to the window, he catches a glimpse of a sleek car that is definitely not their neighbour Johanna’s beat-up Honda Civic.

 

The roar of the engine cuts as the white light at the front of her house floods the streets, competing with the orange glow of the street lamps to blind the sleeping neighbourhood.

 

The driver and passenger open their doors before Johanna makes it down the concrete steps of her front walk way. The passenger doesn’t take a step more, as if he anticipated Johanna launching herself into his arms, abandoning the umbrella in her hands to the ground below.

 

“You’re late." Peeta can hear the smile in Johanna's voice.

  
“His grandmother was having a hard time saying goodbye,” the man’s sultry voice answers back. “She tried to get us to stay with them.”

 

“You should’ve, y’know. Least 'till the end of the year."

 

“I can handle it, Jo,” the man’s voice quivers. “Gersemi and I made a deal, part of which includes flying up for Christmas this year. They invited you as well. They want to meet you."

 

Peeta doesn’t realize how taut the muscles in his face are until his attention is drawn from Johanna and her … friend? … to the driver who is carrying bags from the trunk and into the house.

 

“We’ll talk about that later; first we gotta get the little guy in the house before he catches pneumonia,” her voice cuts loud and clear through the rain.

 

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s so bundled you wouldn’t recognize him,” the man chuckles. Opening the passenger door on the driver’s side, he watches the man climb back into the car and struggle with carrying the infant out.   
  
Peeta bites down on his tongue. The man was right; between the clothes and the blanket secured to the detachable carry-on it is difficult to recognize the bundle is an infant.

 

He wants to interrupt the pouring rain with a thundering laughter; Peeta never thought he’d see the day when Johanna Mason willingly allows a child into her home. Especially a child that isn’t her own.

 

The humourous tickle vanished as quickly as it arrived, replaced by a dull ache. His heart twisted like a corkscrew being ripped from a bottle before it drops into the depths of his stomach as white, hot anger pours through his veins.

 

"Bullshit," Peeta seethes, tearing the paneling off of the window. Why did the universe chose her? What makes Johanna, with her foul mouth and revolving front door, more qualified to raise a child than them? Just because he has a history of mental illness doesn't make him any less capable than her. He's taking his medication and been hallucination-free for 3 years. Yet he’s still unfit, according to his general practitioner.

 

“Peeta, what are you doing?” Katniss calls out to him, groggily, her gray eyes heavy with sleep.   
  
“Johanna's got a guest,” Peeta says, flatly.

 

"Oh. Well, okay then. Would you close the blinds? Its bright," she mumbles in reply, the blankets rustling as she curls back into a comfortable position.

 

"I think he's permanently moving in."

 

"Good for her," Katniss yawns. "Now, would you close the blinds and come to bed?"

 

"He brought a child with him."He scowls as he drops the shire blinds. The clap of plastic hitting the wood frame cuts loudly through the patter of raindrops falling against the window.

 

Peeta watches how silent and still his wife remains in her impenetrable cocoon. Her eyes open as the gray dances with the light of the street lamps.

 

The engine roars interrupting their stalemate, forcing Peeta to throw in the white flag. No good will come from harping on this. Johanna, despite her past actions, is a good person and will probably make a good caregiver for the child. Who knows, maybe she'll bring the boy over for a visit. Then he can prove to Katniss he's up to the challenge of raising a child.

 

Determined to not let his jealousy get the better of him, Peeta shuffles back into bed and encases his wife in his stronghold. A gentle kiss to her neck has a shiver coursing through her body, making him laugh quietly in her ear.

 

"Peeta," she moans in protest as his lips bee line down her neck, across her bare shoulders and along the discs in her spine. "Peeta, we need to be up soon."

 

"It seems to me that we already are."

 

"You know what I mean,” she groans.

 

“I do? Think you should enlighten me, Ms. Everdeen.” She stirs in the confines of his arms and rolls from the suffocating blanket and out of bed. She crosses the room to close the window blowing in hot air. The snap of the locks as they close echos through the room, interrupting the whirling of the ceiling fan.  
  
Katniss’ smouldering silver eyes rim with locks of mischief when she turns to face him. Sashaying towards him from across the room, Peeta’s anxious gaze travels down the slopes of her bouncing breasts towards her hypnotic hips as they bring her back towards the bed.

 

“How would you like to be enlightened, Mr. Mellark?” Katniss chimes as she crawls up the cotton bed sheets and along his stretched out body until she’s sitting on his hips. He drags his hands up the exposed skin along her sides, across her torso until he reaches her soft, perky breasts. He sweeps the pads of his thumbs over the pebbled nubs, making her moan loud enough for him to hear.

 

While having children sounds nice, there are advantages to it just being the two of them.

  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
  


Peeta falls onto the couch and props up his prosthetic against the side of it. While he loves his job at the bakery-- being surrounded daily by the aroma of freshly baked goods and enjoying baker's hours of being up by 5 and home by 3, just in time to take his medication-- his leg always pulsates with the pain from standing on it all day. Just as he sinks into the couch cushions to take his much-needed rest and flips on the news, Brutus' roar of a bark startles him.

 

"What is it, boy?" Peeta calls out, not expecting an answer. However, the grating sound of paws against the wooden door and another bark gives him a good idea.

 

As part of the healing process, his doctor recommended a service dog, which Katniss agreed to impulsively. Neither regret the decision of bringing the German Shepard into their home. Brutus being around to detect an episode, especially when Katniss is at work, puts both of them at a much needed ease. If an episode as badly as the one that took Peeta's leg ever happened again, neither would like to see what could occur afterwards.

 

Reluctantly, Peeta straps his leg back on and turns off the TV before grabbing a plastic bag from under the sink and Brutus' collar from the coat rack.

 

"Guess that walk to and from work wasn't enough for you today, huh?" Peeta chuckles as he clips on the leash and opens the door. Brutus flies down the concrete steps of their townhouse to the sidewalk, setting their walk at a brisk pace.

 

Along the way, Brutus marks his territory on every righted object. Luckily, when they make their way to the playground up the street covered in the shade of luscious, old Maple trees, he is pleased with his work, giving Peeta enough time to toss the plastic bag of excrement in the trash before they are on the move again.

 

This time, Brutus guides Peeta to a bench directly beneath the canopy of two overlapping trees. Circling a spot of thick grass, Brutus makes himself cozy, for which Peeta is thankful for. Finally, an opportunity for rest.

 

The warm, April wind rustles through the leaves as the sun plays hide and seek with the clouds, making patterns in the sand. Peeta mentally tries to make sense of the dots of light by giving them meaning. He should have brought his sketch book.

 

"Dada, Dada, Dada," a shrill voice breaks Peeta from his swirling imagination to the little boy atop the smallest slide. He meets the boy's brilliant sea green eyes and follows the boy's  chubby, extended finger.

 

"What is it, kiddo?" The boy's father asks, materializing from behind the plastic walls of the jungle gym. His distinct, Chicago accent ringing in Peeta's ears like a fire alarm; it's the man from this morning. This is Johanna's friend. With his golden skin, tousled bronze hair and eyes that match his son's; he is revoltingly handsome.

 

Peeta can't help the pang of jealousy that resonates through him. Just watching this young man with his superior looks and his bright-eyed infant makes Peeta feel insignificant and undeserving. If this is the ideal father and son, Peeta is way out of their league.

 

"Its just a man and his dog. Can we share the park with them?" The man asks, scooping up his son and rubbing his nose up to the little button nose of the boy's.

 

"That's alright. We were just leaving," Peeta answers, getting up and tugging gently on Brutus' leash. He needs to get out of here before he loses it.

 

"You just got here. Really. Stay. We won't bother you," the man insists and he tries to put his son back down onto the slide. But the boy won't unravel himself from his father's body.

 

"C'mon, Noah. What’s wrong, you like the slide," the man tries to peel his son off him but the boy won't budge. Noah's green eyes remain transfixed on Peeta's from across the playground; not in curiosity but fear.

 

His father takes notice of Noah's state immediately and doesn't hesitate to do something about it. Sitting down onto the sand-covered platform, the man pushes himself down the slide, getting an eruption of tinkling laughter from his infant in his arms.

 

"There we go! Do you want to go again?" Noah's face lights up and he nods animatedly in favour of his father's request. Peeta watches as the man hoists his boy to the top of the slide and walks down to the bottom as gravity pulls the giggling boy into his father’s outstretched arms.

 

All Peeta wants to do is crawl into a hole. Brutus' rumbling growl masks Noah’s yawn and nips the hissing whispers of his subconscious in the bud. He needs to get home, he needs to find his quiet place and he needs to wait until Katniss gets back from work. Maybe she was right, maybe having children would be a bad idea right now.  

 

"Are you alright?" The man asks, genuine concern in his voice. With his toddler's head lulled onto his shoulder and eyes closing, he places the boy in the stroller carefully. Great, they were leaving too.

 

"I'm fine," Peeta insists as Brutus begins to guide him back onto the sidewalk and towards home.

 

The squeak of the stroller trails behind him as the man jogs to catch up. They fall into step much to Peeta's chagrin but the man offers him a bright, white grin in return.

 

"Y'know, I gotta say you've got it pretty nice here. Good area. Sizable, cozy homes. Close to a school. Better than living in a mansion with 3 acres between you and your neighbour with a school only reachable by car.”

 

"You're joking, right?" Peeta asks, astonished.

 

"You caught me," the man grins, cheekily.

 

They walk on in silence save for the tiny suckling noises Noah makes with his pacifier securely between his teeth deep within the recesses of his mid-afternoon nap. When that happened, Peeta doesn't know.

 

"He's cute," Peeta finds himself saying.

 

"Thanks. He doesn't take after his mother,” the man says continuing to grin. However Peeta remains silent, uncomfortable with the quip.

 

“I was kidding."

 

"Big on jokes, huh?"

 

"They are something of my speciality."

 

Peeta bobs his head in agreement before turns back towards the his path straight ahead.

 

"I'm Finnick, by the way, just moved here ... well... this morning."

 

"Peeta," he shares. Observing out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Finnick’s face contorts with thought.

 

Peeta can feel his pores fill with sweat and his hands begin to shake. What is Finnick thinking about? Does he know someone else named Peeta? He’s never met anyone else named Peeta. Could they’ve met before? They couldn’t have, could they? He would remember someone like Finnick. Why does Finnick know who he is?

 

"Peeta...what’s your background," Finnick inquires, after some time.

 

“Welsh.”

 

“Huh. Interesting. So, do you live with your parents?”

 

“No, I live with my wife," Peeta answers, through gritted teeth.

 

“Uh. Seems to be the trend now to get married young."

 

"You're talking as if you're 40."

 

"I feel 40," Finnick's smile drops and his eyes grow distant. The wrinkles in his face prominent making look at least 5 years older.

 

“So, um...Noah's your son?"

 

“No, I'm just babysitting him until his parents come to pick him up, " Finnick replies flatly.

 

"You're really funny, you know that?" Peeta says dryly. "Can't be straight with a person, can you?"

 

"Bad habits die hard," Finnick smirks.

 

He doesn't offer Finnick another word to fuel his abundance of quips. They walk in silence back to their street. As Peeta swings left towards his front door, Finnick stops him.

 

"It was nice meeting you," Finnick says but Peeta shrugs, brushing him off as he fiddles with the lock. "Hopefully next time I’ll get to meet that beautiful wife of yours. Maybe over dinner?”

 

Looking back, Peeta’s bewildered blue eyes lock on to Finnick's mischievous ones. He wants to pummel that disgustingly handsome face in, wiping that smug grin clean off Finnick's lips and rewriting it with anguish as he cradles his broken nose.

 

“Over my dead body,” Katniss’ voice rings out from behind him. She sounds pissed, hell, looks pissed as she stomps down the front steps towards them. “I’m not letting you within ten feet of me!”

 

"I think, though I may be mistaken, you just moved closer to where I am standing so…I believe that puts us in an interesting predicament,” Finnick hums, not bothering to hide the width of his grin.

 

Katniss' eyebrows knit together while her gray eyes steel. "You're insufferable."

 

"So glad some things never change.” He genuinely sounds as if he is enjoying watching her squirm.

 

"Can't say I feel the same way, Finnick," she glowers, refusing to meet his eyes, glowing with delight.

  
“If it makes you feel better, your husband here isn’t a fan of mine either,” Finnick sighs, over-dramatically. "Don't know what I did to deserve it."

 

"You know what you did," Katniss spits, grasping a hold of Peeta's hand in hopes to get hers to stop shaking. But it doesn’t; Peeta can feel the trembles crawl up his arm as his knuckles grow white.

 

The squeak from the stroller brings the couple's attention to the napping infant whose matted dirty blonde waves stick to his pasty face as it rests against the padded sides. Peeta can feel the stubs of Katniss' nails curl deeper into his hand.

 

"I'm not going to apologize for choosing to raise my son, Katniss," Finnick admits, sternly.

 

"That isn't the issue," Katniss speaks slowly.

 

"Then what is it?"

 

"Madge," Katniss states simply, leaving Finnick standing there gaping like a fool as he contemplates an answer but comes up short. “Gale didn’t deserve to have you rip everything away from him. It wasn’t fair!”

  
“ _Life_ isn’t fair, Katniss.” A dangerously low growl rumbles in Finnick’s chest as he speaks.

 

"I know that," she glowers.

 

"Then stop acting like it is! I was desperate and Madge decided to help me. So what's done is done," Finnick retorts, rolling the stroller back and forth as Noah rustles in the padded seated.  "I am sure Gale welcomed her back into his life with open arms."

 

Katniss grumbles as she squeezes Peeta's hand gently.

 

"Must be nice to go home to people who still love you after you fuck up," Finnick sighs, turning his attention in the direction of potential on coming traffic. Taking a step off the curb, his quick stride carries him and Noah onto Johanna’s driveway before a car comes zooming by.

 

"Can't get much luckier than that," Finnick shouts across the way as he unbuckles the boy from his prison and props Noah up on his hip, taking him inside to enjoy the rest of his nap.

 

Once the door shuts behind them, Peeta half expects Finnick to make another appearance but he doesn't. He can feel a dull ache pulse through his chest as he turns to face Katniss, who stares blankly out onto the asphalt.   
  
“I...um...Katniss…?” She neither blinks nor replies, just stands there her eyes fixated on that asphalt. Letting go of Peeta’s hand, she heads back up the concrete steps.

 

“The boy...do you know his name?”

 

“Noah.”

 

When she turns back to look at him, a smile quirks in the corner of her mouth before pulling down in a frown. "It isn’t fair. He deserves a selfless woman for a mother.”

 

"I’m guessing she left them?"

 

"Yes," Katniss sneers. “Madge said she has some choice words geared up to spit in that awful woman’s face.”

 

Peeta smiles, reeling her back in so she's flush against his chest. "That's why I love you.” Perching on her toes, her lips find his as her arms weave around his neck. "Your frustration is charming," he murmurs against her lips.

 

"You're a strange one, Peeta Mellark."

 

"And that's why you love me."

 

* * *

 

 

Days fly like seconds, weeks like minutes and before Peeta knows it they are half way through Summer. Like every year, their 2000 of square feet of townhouse is encased in a dome of delicious smells from peach almond crumble to Johanna’s required batch of peach tarts, making the mouths of their neighbours water.

 

Peeta purposefully avoids the desserts of his childhood, much to Katniss’ discontent. On his baking binges, she wishes he’d think of himself instead of making his loved ones smile as they bite down into their favourite Mellark delicacies, but he refuses to blend the heavenly scents of his new, steady life with his old, wayward one.

 

How is he to improve unless he actively avoids his triggers?

 

It doesn’t come as a surprise to Peeta when the door rings. Johanna likes to periodically check up on the progress of her peach tarts, Katniss tries to scold their neighbour for imposing and sends her back across the street but Peeta insists Johanna isn’t in his way. Her visits give him routine. Dr. Aurelius insists on the upholding of a strong routine.   
  
“I swear to God this woman never learns,” Katniss huffs, barely audible above Brutus’ incessant barking. Swinging the door open with one hand, the other wrestling to restrain Brutus, a ‘What?!’ prepares itself to pass her lips but Peeta listens to her stutter instead.

 

The whine of a reluctant toddler has Peeta peering around the kitchen corner, still tossing the dough for the tarts from hand to hand. Feeling the muscles in his face tighten and crinkle around his narrowed eyes forms, he watches Finnick shift a squirming Noah from hip to hip while his turquoise eyes swim with urgency. Katniss loses her grip on Brutus’ collar, who immediately jumps onto Finnick and paws at the expensive suit trying to reach the boy.

 

“I can’t bring him with me to the meeting and Johanna’s working. I swear I’ll only be gone for an hour, maximum two.” Finnick rushes, trying to maneuver his son out of the dog’s reach.

 

“It’s Saturday morning, what kind of company are you working for?” Katniss crosses her arms over her chest, a shaped dark eyebrow arching at him in inquiry.

 

“I’ll explain everything later. Please, just help me this once, Katniss. I won’t ask anything of you again,” Finnick’s voice wavers. Noah’s little fingers grasp and tug at the lapels of his father’s suit, his face twisted in fear, none the wiser to how desperate his father is.

 

“Peeta’s baking,” her voice drops but Peeta still catches her hushed words. “I’m sure Gale told you; he’s got a condition and baking for him is therapeutic. He’s been episode-free all month and I don’t want the spontaneity of your _child_ to ruin a good thing. So, I’m sorry, but I can’t hel--”

  
“Sure,” Peeta pipes in, wiping his wet hands on the skirt of his apron before taking Noah out of Finnick’s hands. “We can watch him for a few hours. Is there anything we need to know?”

 

Relief washes over Finnick’s face.“ I fed and changed him already so he’s all good to go in that department. He’s probably a little fussy right now because his nap time is coming up, so hopefully, if you put him down in fifteen minutes he’ll be asleep the entire time and you’ll just need to check up on him.”

 

Shrugging the oversized diaper bag off his shoulder, Finnick hands it to Katniss who misjudges the weight and loses her footing. “Everything but the kitchen sink is in that bag. If there is an emergency, call me! My number is in the bag. If you can’t find it, call Johanna at work.” Finnick brushes the wrinkles out of his navy Hugo Boss suit before leaning over to kiss both Katniss and Peeta on the cheek. Flushes stain both of their faces.  
  
“I can’t thank you two enough! You are life savers.” Finnick smiles at them before touching a kiss to Noah’s head. “Be good for Uncle Peeta and Auntie Katniss, kiddo.” The boy stares at him with those bright, sea foam eyes of his and watches his dad trot off down the steps, cross the street, slip into his black Audi and barrel down the street at a hundred miles per hour.

 

Noah turns his head of messy dark hair from the empty driveway across the way to Peeta’s nervous smile. Bouncing the boy on his hip, Peeta chooses to ignore Katniss’ grunt of discontent.

 

“Hey there, Noah,” Peeta says, trying to get the boy to smile. “I guess I’m your Uncle Peeta now. Do you remember the day we met at the park?” Noah’s eyes continue to look right through him as they blink slowly. “Guess not. How about we head over to the couch and see what your Dad has packed.”

 

Peeta makes a beeline for the sofa in family room, Brutus in tow, while Noah remains oddly quiet. Katniss follows with the bag securely over her shoulder. Placing the luggage onto the carpeted floor, they sift through the contents: diapers, toys, bottles, utensils, snacks, emergency contact information, blanket, changing mat and some extra clothes. Neither could say that Finnick wasn’t thoroughly prepared.

 

“Now if Finnick managed to fit a playpen in here then we’d be all set,” Katniss mumbles.

 

“So we can dump the boy in there?” Peeta retorts with narrowed eyes, furious with her for using him as an excuse. They were handed the perfect opportunity to practice being parents and she wanted to toss it aside over the possibility of disrupting a delicate balance. “He’s a child, Katniss. We don’t even put Brutus in a cage!”

 

“Peeta, I don’t want to cage him. He does need to sleep somewhere safe, where he won’t roll and smash his head open,” Katniss clarifies as she scrounges through the diaper bag. "I don't think Finnick would appreciate us killing his son."

 

Peeta can feel the guilt of his assumption rub his insides raw, leaving him naked to the truth of Katniss’ words. She had a point.

 

“One of us could always watch him?”

 

“Or,” Katniss drawls as she pulls out the folder with emergency information and rips the key off the inside of the pocket. “I can run across the street and grab it.” Finnick really has thought of everything, leaving nothing to chance.

 

Not like his father.

  
Brutus’ snarls don’t clip the quickening pace in which Peeta can feel his tongue grow heavy; nor the sweet taste of apples that lay soaked into his taste buds that now turn to ash. The smell from wood burning ovens of the bakery comes next. The sight of the open flames that warm the room uncomfortably has his attention drawn on the hunched over woman that is his mother as she grips onto the marble of the rolling pin in her hands. He spots vacancy in his father’s pale blue eyes as they flicker back down to his hands, feigning ignorance of what’s to come.

 

He’s not going to be his father. He’s going to be better than that.

 

“P-peeta?” Katniss’ voice breaks through, shakily, as her silver eyes dance with worry, her hands wringing the blanket between her fingers. She throws the blanket to the floor and shoots up from her place before he can call her back. “I knew this was a bad idea! He’s as much as an insufferable, selfish bastard as he’s always been!”

 

“Kat--”

 

“Who the hell works on a Saturday anyways?!” she fumes, stomping into the front entrance and ripping her leather jacket off the coat hanger and over her shoulders. Peeta catches her arm as she throws open the door.   
  
“This isn’t Finnick’s fault, Katniss,” he says, hoisting Noah higher on his hip. “It’s...it’s not mine either. Things happen and we have to deal with them. I’m fine now and I’m going to be fine for the next several hours. Brutus will be with me too. So please, put your grudge back in its box and help me out.”

 

Her shoulders fall in defeat while the steel of her eyes soften under the heat of his gaze. Perching on her toes, Katniss places a kiss to the top of his head before bounding down their front steps and jogging across the street.

 

Feeling Noah shift, Peeta expects to have to adjust the boy’s body again but to his surprise Noah’s head drops to his shoulder and his tiny hand claps a wave to her. Peeta's heart bursts in an array of indescribable emotion. Finnick is a lucky man to experience this every day.

 

Taking his place back on the sofa in the main sitting room, Peeta seats Noah in his lap. The sleepy boy's head lifts from Peeta's shoulder and squirms out of his grasp. Peeta holds him steady as he attempts to slip to the floor.

 

"My house must be really interesting. How about we wait until Auntie Katniss comes back and you can do all the walking you want, ok?" Peeta doesn't expect an answer but Noah's obedience is enough of an indication for him to know he was heard. Bending down to grasp the first toy he could reach, Peeta puts the plush rattle in Noah's grasping hands. The boy's eyes smile as they fill with wonder while the the beads within the shaking caterpillar clink together, his laugh tinkling with unadulterated joy. Never has Peeta been witness to something so heart-wrenchingly innocent.

 

Those tiny hands shake the rattle and examine the components of the caterpillar until Katniss comes back, out of breath as she carries the play pen. Peeta has watched her carry one of his bags of flour from the front door to the kitchen with less strain than she does the play pen.

 

"Welcome back," he smiles, shifting Noah’s attention from the plushie and focus on Katniss. "You seem a little tired there. Maybe I should have gotten it."

 

Her braid sways from side to side as she shakes her head. "It was better I went. It wasn't a walk in the park to collapse and carry over here. Almost lost a finger."

 

"I'm glad that you and that finger are still with us," Peeta chuckles, pushing himself from the couch cushions only to fall back down.

 

"You having trouble?" Her smile slips slightly.

  
Peeta manages to right himself, standing tall and steady before crossing the room to relieve her of the contraption. “I’m great. Though, I think its time we traded."

 

"Getting tired of babysitting?"

 

"I thought you'd like a chance to spend some time with him,” Peeta says softly.

 

Her gray eyes narrow at the bundle in Peeta arms; with his head rested down in the crook of Peeta's neck, Noah is still preoccupied with his toy.

 

"But he seems more comfortable with you," she draws her lip between her teeth.

 

"Alright," he sighs. "But if you need help you're gonna have to hold onto him."

 

"I collapsed the playpen, I think I can put it back together," she says coolly.

 

"I'm sure you could, I was just saying..."

 

"Well, I can do it."

 

"Alright then, do it."

 

“Okay, good," she bites.

 

"Great," he smiles. Huffing off with the large contraption under her arm, she sets it up against the furthest side of the wrap around couch, closest to the TV. Peeta attempts to contain his amusement as he watches her assemble it. Finnick no doubt didn't spring for a cheap one; with its unusual trapezoid shape and well-padded mattress, it must have cost him a fortune not including bedding - which is monogrammed with the boy’s initials embroidered into the corners.

 

“These are impressive,” Peeta gawks, not able to help but admire the hand stitched lettering.

  
“Gale told me the boy’s mother comes from money,” Katniss mutters as she turns to the toddler who has given up playing with his toy to rest his head down onto the blanket, eyes fluttering with sleep. Scooping the drowsy Noah into her arms, she cradles him close as if the child were her own. Her eyes, soft as candle light, gaze upon his round cheeks and flat nose once her nimble fingers push the thick matted waves of dark brown hair aside. “She had everything and yet...I don’t know how she justified walking away from him.”

 

Peeta doesn’t have to know the woman to surmise her reasoning and deep down, part of him sympathizes with her. Not everyone can rise to the occasion. “You’ll make a much better mother,” he whispers in Katniss’ ear as he rests his chin on her shoulder.

 

“Peeta...don’t.”

 

“Don’t? Don’t what? Reassure you that you should trust your instincts?” His voice rises with frustration. Here they go for the umpteenth time this month.   
  
“Talk about having kids. Y’know we can’t…”

 

“We can, Katniss! Hasn’t this time together just now proven that?” Peeta pulls away, eyes watching as his wife carefully places Noah down on the padded bottom and touches a kiss to his exposed forehead.

 

She must have done it unconsciously because once she realizes the spontaneity of her actions Katniss backs out of the room and dashes up the stairs. Peeta knows exactly where she is off to go hide but feels a little time to collect herself would be wise.

 

The nudge of Brutus’ muzzle against his leg turns Peeta’s attention from the measured rise and fall of the toddler’s chest as he reaps the joys of his mid-morning nap. Weaseling his nose up into Peeta’s hand, Brutus rubs it against his owner’s palm bringing a smile to Peeta’s sullen face.

 

“Katniss should give herself more credit? We’ve done pretty well up until now,” Peeta speaks, scratching his short nails through Brutus’ cropped fur before padding back into the kitchen. However, Brutus doesn’t follow; his claws remain secure between the threads of the rug with nose pointed at the sleeping child. Eyes as watchful as ever. With that smile now shining proudly on his lips, Peeta goes back to kneading the dough. The sounds of sticky dough slapping against his hands and the deep breaths of a sleeping child putting him at ease.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time the doorbell rings, the peach filling has been blended and left to chill in the fridge besides the dough. Forgoing the cantaloupe gelato  he plans to offer Noah as mid-afternoon dessert, Peeta opens the door revealing a worn out Finnick Odair. The careful, pristine appearance prior to leaving for work is lost to this man; his suit jacket has vanished, leaving only tie loosely hanging down from around the collar of his wrinkled white shirt.

 

“Hey.” Finnick barely manages to smile politely as his voice cracks and eyes scream for solace. “How was he?” There is no room for apologies in his vocabulary, currently, but Peeta doesn’t mind. The extra time with the sweet, bubbly toddler was a blessing. If only Katniss would have come down to enjoy it with him.   
  
“Great! After his nap and some lunch, he just sat and played with his caterpillar and plush dinosaur. I checked up on his periodically, changed his diaper when need be…” Peeta trails off as he glances over his shoulder to the family room where Noah’s joyful giggles waft from.

 

“Y-you fed him?” Finnick’s astonished. “What’d he eat?”

 

“Leftover squash salad. It wasn’t high in protein, sorry, but it was softest food I could find was safe for him to eat. Y’know, without possibly triggering a potential allergy or something,” Peeta mumbles.

 

“And he didn’t get fussy?” Finnick presses, life flooding back into his eyes and colour into his ghostly cheeks. “He’s stubborn when it comes to vegetables.”

 

“He was fine, honestly,” Peeta says.   
  
“Guess I’ll have to call you next time Noah needs a serving of veggies,” Finnick laughs, visibly relaxing as a more genuine smile pokes through the tired lines in his face.

 

“There is still some of the squash salad left. I can pack it up for you if you’d like?” Peeta offers. He's halfway to the kitchen when Finnick agrees and follows Peeta through the quaint house. Peeking into the family room as to get a better visual of the house, Finnick spots his son in the playpen throwing his stuffed toys around, giggling wildly. Noah’s attention is stolen from his playing when his father’s shoes clap against the floor.

 

The exchange of delight between the reunited father and son has Peeta’s heart clenched so tightly it throbs. Finnick doesn’t hesitate to swing his boy around, tickle his sides and drop a big kiss to Noah’s dimpled cheeks before hoisting him up on his hip. Surprisingly, fatherhood rejuvenated the exhausted business man that stood at Peeta’s front door just moments ago.

 

“I’m taking it this is mine as well?” Finnick motions to the playpen he's plucked his son from. Peeta calls in through the open doorway in agreement as he seals the bowl closed with plastic cling wrap.   
  
“Do you need help carrying it?” Peeta offers as he brings the bowl out into the family room. In that short period of time, Finnick has collapsed the contraption and stuffed the toys back into the oversized carry-on which he now has slung over his shoulder, Noah still perched on his hip.

 

“If you don’t mind,” comes his sheepish reply. Assistance must be foreign to Finnick, not that that surprises Peeta. Johanna wouldn’t be any help whatsoever when it comes to juggling a child. She only knows how to make them.

 

Grabbing ahold of the playpen, Peeta secures it under his arm with ease and he leads the way back to the front door. Before leaving, his eyes hold onto the image of the empty, spiralled staircase contemplating whether or not to yell up to Katniss. With a sigh, Peeta holds his tongue and opens the door for Finnick who leads the way across the street and inside the open concept home. The kitchen’s to the left; television, sofa and baby saucer are to the right and straight ahead must be the bedrooms. Brutus, who accompanied them, sniffs down the dark hallway and along the baseboards before the bedroom doors.   
  
“You can set that down beside the saucer; don’t worry about setting it up, I can do it later,” Finnick calls from over the kitchen counter where he's pulling out bottles, tupperware containers and toys. Noah sits perfectly still from his high chair as his father places the dirty dishes in the sink. He fills the electric kettle sitting in the far corner of the counter with water and leaves it to boil, then turning back to Peeta with aged eyes.

 

Finnick’s lower back digs into the counter as he leans there with his arms crossed over his chest, “So, is Katniss doing alright?”

  
“Y-yeah, just needed some time to herself.”

 

“It didn’t have anything to do with me, did it?” Finnick inquires softly, eyebrow lifting begging for honesty. “I’m a big boy, I can handle Catnip’s qualms with me.”

 

The casual use of Gale’s old nickname for Katniss has Peeta rigid, fingers balled into fists. He was unfond of the nickname to begin with, considering that it feels as if Gale is teasing Katniss for being shy every time he says it. Over time Peeta learned to suppress the bubbling frustration but to have a complete stranger speak with so much familiarity has his body quarreling within itself. Remembering the advice of his therapist in the midst of his rage is a struggle; he didn’t have time to conjure that beam of light or focus his energy to make the spiral spin counterclockwise. So he settles on his fifteen second breathes.

 

Between the counting and the relinquishing of negative energy, Peeta’s light blue eyes come to focus on Finnick, who no longer looks as relaxed as he did a moment ago. Peeta’s almost glad that he gave him a bit of a scare.

 

“How exactly did you get Madge to do that which has Katniss in a tizzy?” Peeta asks, confidence dripping in his tone from having bested the man.

 

Finnick sighs, sifting his fingers through the long, dark waves of his hair. “Imagine Katniss pregnant. And none of that “she’s glowing” crap. Imagine her wanting you to tend to her every 3pm food craving and 5am nausea spell; being forced out of bed at four o’clock in the morning when she can’t get comfortable, banishing you from the bed only to have her wake up cranky anyhow.”

 

The whistle from the kettle draws Finnick’s attention back to the task at hand. Unplugging the appliance, he leaves it to rest as he pulls a mug and a tea bag from the cabinets above the sink, alongng with a fresh plastic insert for a bottle. Opening the fridge, he pulls out a carton of milk and pours until it reaches the top before handing the cold drink with it’s rubber nozzle to his son.

 

“Now, take that image of Katniss and multiply its intensity by five,” he continues as his body reacts with a tremor in memory of his words. “I spent the last three weeks of his mother’s pregnancy sleeping on the floor.”   
  
Peeta tries to conjure the image of a heavily pregnant Katniss griping at him to cater to her whims. But his imagination stops him as he pictures his beautiful wife and her belly protruding with his child.

 

“Noah may have been an accident, but by no means was he a mistake.” Finnick turns and taps his young son’s nose, as he stares up at him with those big, innocent green eyes. “I was crumbling drywall when Madge offered to be my temporary fix.”

 

“So, really, Katniss has misjudged you,” Peeta clarifies.

 

“Life is already unfair without me making it more so.” Finnick shakes his head as a smile dosed in melancholy floods his face. Peeta’s heart weighs heavy and aches sorely as it absorbs the emotion swirling around in the tense atmosphere in the room. He wants to reach out, pull Finnick into an embrace and comfort the man. However, he remains still, his feet frozen in place and arms straight by his sides.

 

The creak of a door on rusty hinges, the stomps of feet and the click of claws on old floorboards alarms Peeta. He whips around in the direction of the short hallway where Johanna - sluggish and frightening- emerges. She barely registers Peeta as she makes a beeline straight to the fridge and drinks directly from a carton of orange juice.

 

“Fuck, Odair, why do you have to be so loud?” Johanna grumbles, this time noticing Peeta standing opposite her. She makes no attempt to straighten her posture or pull down the sleep shorts that have ridden up a little too high. “Hey, Bread Boy. How’re my peach tarts coming along?”

 

“Should be ready tomorrow,” Peeta replies. Johanna flashes a cheesy smile and a thumbs up before crawling back into the dark hole that must be her bedroom. Working the graveyard shift at a bar looks rougher than it sounds.

 

“Anyways, I should get going…”

 

“Sure. Thank you, truly, for watching him. I wholeheartedly appreciate the favour.”

 

“Y’know, if you ever need someone to watch him again, I’d be glad to do it,” Peeta says heading for the front door. Brutus following on his haunches.

 

“Thanks, man. I’ll call you next time I’m in need of an emergency babysitter. I’m sure Jo has a copy of your number somewhere,” Finnick smiles and waves as Peeta’s about to leave. What stops him in his tracks in the gurgle of ‘bye-bye’ that Noah spurts from his high chair. Wishing the family a good afternoon, Peeta makes the trek back across the street.

 

Finnick’s thought experiment struck him just as he comes up the driveway. Peeta tries to visualize Katniss begging for seemingly unappetizing food combinations and her head deep in the porcelain bowl of their toilet as he holds her hair. Strings of curses falling from her lips as she demands more room in bed. He can imagine how distraught this could make Finnick but it wasn’t enough for him to lose his mind over. But then again, Peeta hadn’t multiplied the experience of the intensity the appropriate five times.

 

Thankfully, Katniss didn’t lock the door and he gets back in with ease. Calling up the stairs to her, he gets a broken reply from the kitchen. With a cup of tea in her hands and a butter tart on a napkin before her, Katniss sits at the kitchen table with her silver eyes distraught and rimmed with red. The dark olive tones in her cheeks are flushed with the most gorgeous shade of pink; it reminded him of the rosy cheeks of newborns.

 

“Are you done with your tea, do you want another cup?” Peeta asks, grasping for the mug but Katniss pulls it away with a shake of her head. Her lip,securely between her teeth, begins to quiver.   
  
“Katniss...what’s wrong?” He cups his hands around hers. Trying to catch a glimpse of her eyes from beneath the hood of her bangs but with no luck, his wife remains as tightly furled as a ball of yarn.   
  
“I-I’m sorry for running away like that...for leaving you alone. For doing exactly what I didn’t want to do,” she croaks. The soft gray of her eyes gleam as the bright, white lights overhead emphasize the glisten of fallen tears.  

 

"Katniss, it's ok. I understand." He pushes aside a lone wisp of hair that frames her face.

 

"No," she snaps out of his reach, sitting against the back of her chair. " I spent so much time trying to protect you that I undermined you, decided not to trust you and your capabilities. I’m not there when you talk to Dr. Aurelius so all I know is what you tell me. I have no idea how much progress you are actually making. Only you know that and it wasn’t my place for me to force my judgement when I don’t know better. I just...I got scared…”

 

Her fingers roll around the rip of the stained, white mug as she stares directly at him, strength blooming as she admits to fear. Only one other time has Peeta listen to his wife express her anxieties so openly- she was desperately clinging to the boney, placid hand of her sister. Those shadowed, bugging eyes of Prim’s were closed, lungs pushing every breath they could when Katniss expressed, barely above a whisper, how afraid she was that Prim wouldn’t make it ‘till morning. She wept like the child her sister never got to be.

 

“Scared about…?” He prompts, wanting to hear her express her fears overtly like she did that day six years ago.

 

She takes a deep breath. “Having this baby, Peeta.”

 

The fingers that cease playing with the mug enfold on the rolls of fabric that cover her belly. His jaw hangs like lead as his tongue drops like sand in an hourglass. There is no room amongst the shock and euphoria for Peeta to feel hurt and betrayal. She’s pregnant. Katniss is pregnant with his child at long last.

 

“How long?” He wants to reach across the table and pull her into his embrace, but he abstains for now.

 

“T-twelve weeks. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I just…”

 

“You got scared,” he repeats with a wide grin. The thrill of his baby growing flushes anger further from his body. Rising from his seat he can’t hold back any longer; forgoing Katniss’ need for space he lifts her from her seat and towards the ceiling where he swings her jubilantly. “But there’s nothing to be scared of. I’m right here, I’m going to take care of you and the baby!” 

“But Peeta, what happens if our child get sick? As sick as Prim was,” her voice remains crisp and eyes sharp as shrapnel, demanding to be let down. Abiding to her silent wishes, Peeta returns his wife to the cool kitchen tiles. “I don’t think I could sit there and go through it again. Watch my child wither and die before their life has begun. What if I end up abandoning our child like father abandoned us or Cashmere abandoned Noah?”

 

Weaving his hands through hers, Peeta holds her close to his chest, not ready to relinquish the warmth and security of their conjoined bodies. The rose coloured glasses that fog his vision clear as the weight of her words sink in. It is entirely possible for their child to develop leukemia and have it rob their child of life like it did Prim. Though, Katniss abandoning their child…  
  
Unbinding their hands, Peeta cups his hands around her jaw, pulling her head from where it lays buried in his t-shirt.“I cannot see someone so fiercely maternal, so ready to sacrifice everything for another, abandoning their child, Katniss,” he whispers into the dark waves of her hair.

 

“When I had my...accident...you never left my side. And after you confronted my mother, you successfully dragged me from her confinements and found us a home. You worked yourself to the bone until I was well enough to walk again. Just when I was ready to start pulling my weight and tackling those medical bills, you agreed to take a government job up here in Toronto, telling me I can finally get the help I need.”

 

“That person, doesn’t sound like one who would abandon their child. Our child. And if they do, god forbid, get sick, you will love that child without abandon,” Peeta touches a kiss to the rushing rivers of tears that flow down her cheeks.

  
“Oh, P-peeta,” she hiccups as her thumbs comes up to rub at his own damp cheeks. Their lips find one anothers, latching on and refusing to let go as if the other were a life preserver. Katniss’ nails claw at the thin shirt Peeta has draped over his taut, well-shapen torso, demanding to feel the heat of his exposed skin against her own. He halts her hands, bringing them up to his lips upon breaking their kiss.

  
“Later,” he promises. “Mommy should go relax the rest of the afternoon.”   
  
That rosy colour in her cheeks that vanished once her tears began to fall again, returns. Such a beautiful healthy glow. He touches a kiss to her forehead, instinctively bringing that bright, toothy smile back onto her face. They’re definitely going to be alright.

 

* * *

 


	19. A Treat (Noah, Odesta, Odashmere)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Babydoll Ria

* * *

 

[drabble]

Unlike all the other kids, Noah getting to see his Mom is a treat. He usually only sees her for 3 days every six months when his dad goes on business trips out to L.A.. So, when she says she’ll be coming to town to see him perform in school’s spring concert he is on a high for the following couple days.

Once the excitement subsides, panic sets in. What if she doesn’t like it? What if she gets into a fight with his dad again? What if she doesn’t come? It’s Annie, his dad’s girlfriend, who pulls Noah into her arms one night after a panic attack and tells him his mom will be there and she will love his performance. Promising as well that his dad will be on his best behaviour. 

On the day of the performance, Annie was more than right; not only did his Mom come but she brought his brother and sister too! Giving each of them a hug, Noah lingers upon letting go of his mom; he wish he never had to let go. But his teacher is calling him onto the stage with the rest of his classmates.

From his spot on stage, he can see his mom’s long blonde hair and his dad’s bright green eyes along with the video camera in his hands. When she leans over to whisper something into his ear, Noah’s heart drops, until he sees the gleaming white of his dad’s teeth as he smiles and nods. Noah couldn’t feel happier. 

"So, are you and Mama friends now?" Noah asks on the drive home from school that afternoon. His sea green eyes meet identical ones in the rear view mirror.  
  
"I suppose. Why?"

"Well, she made you smile so I thought you were," Noah mumbles as his eyes flutter down into his lap. 

"Oh, I see," he can hear the smile in his dad’s voice. "Do you wanna know what she said?" 

Noah’s head perks up with intrigue.” Yeah!”

"That you’re the only thing her and I ever did right."

"R-really?" His heart swells as his words become hiccups. The desire to throw his arms around his parents is almost as monstrous as the tears that slide down his cheeks. 

Unlike all the other kids, Noah getting to see his Mom is a treat. Maybe now, it won’t have to be. 

 

* * *

 


	20. Pictures of You (Noah, Rosy, Marvel)

* * *

 

Staring at the blank screen of the empty chat window, the cursor blinks eagerly awaiting words to come. But its anticipation is in vain. The icon beside his name remains a little orange clock; he should be home from Clove’s by now seeing how it’s 10 o’clock on a school night alas he's not. Closing the tantalizingly white window, she illuminates the screen on her cellphone that lays rest beside her; again, nothing.

 

She falls back against the back of her chair and swivels around catching glimpses of her books, posters and bulletin board of pictures of her and her friends. Rosy’s pale blue eyes rest on the one directly in the center that was taken at their grade eight graduation. When Noah slung his arm around her shoulder, flashing his diploma Rosy expected those white teeth of his to shine in his classically beautiful smile but they didn’t. His lips were far more preoccupied with the patch of skin on her flushing cheeks. Three years later and Rosy can still feel the heat along her cheekbones upon remembering the kiss. It had been the first and last time he has pressed his lips to hers.

 

The ringing of an old fashion telephone blares through her laptop speakers spooks Rosy almost right out of her chair. Snapping her eyes down to computer screen, it isn’t the Noah’s Gchat window that demands her attention but a skype window flashing Marvel Snow.

 

“So close yet so far,” Rosy mumbles beneath her breath as she accepts the video call. Marvel’s royal blue eyes shine with unadulterated delight as he runs a hand through his blonde hair that drips onto his bare chest while giving her a suave grin. She fights the instinct to roll her eyes at his attempt at seduction. Not that Marvel really needed to make himself look any more attractive, the boy has the genes of a supermodel coursing through him. He is plenty handsome as it is.

 

“Hello Charlotte,” Marvel flashes her with a smile of fully of metal. It almost makes her laugh. All that suave for nothing. Though, the fact that he is still the only one that calls her by her first name does make her heart flutter.

 

“Hey Marven,” she says through a smile. “Saving a snack for later? ”

 

His eyes flicker down to the window that reflects his face back at him. Right away he sees the tiny green piece of vegetable stuck between the wire and bright blue elastic. A blush paints his cheeks an uncharacteristic pink as Marvel tries to jimmy out the piece of food. Once he finally does, not only is he crumpling up a whole tissue for one piece of food but then leaves the room to go washes his hands.

 

“I’m so sorry about that. Ordered gnocchi from this quaint little hole in the wall Italian place, there was some spinach mixed in.” His nose wrinkles in disgust.

 

“Was it good?”

 

“Best gnocchi I’ve ever had, it’s like if you were to stick your head under a fountain that only flowed with asiago cream sauce while at the bottom, instead of pennies, you have delicious potato dumplings waiting to be scooped up by the handful and devoured one by one,” Rosy can hear him drool. “I’ll have to take you the next time you come up to visit.”

 

“Which will probably be never happen,” she sighs. Her parents keep her on a tight five kilometer leash. Even though they did let her go to L.A. that one time, and Rosy had travelled with Noah and his family, she doubts they’d let her go with them again. “Anyways, what’s up?”

 

Those almost albino shoulders of his shrug, “Not much. Saw you online, was wondering why you are doing up so late on a school night. Shouldn’t you be in bed young lady?”

 

This time, Rosy bursts into laughter. “Oh my god, stop acting like you’re thirty-five, it’s weird. Can’t you be, like, fourteen for like ten minutes of your life?”

 

Marvel’s lip juts out in a pout. “I only get to talk to you for ten minutes, well that’s a bummer. I was so hoping you’d hang out with me until my bed time.”

 

“I’d probably have to be at school by the time you go to bed,” Rosy replies, plenty aware that Marvel lives in a time zone three hours behind hers.

 

“That...is very true! Alright, so maybe a Skype date until 4 a.m. my time wouldn’t be such a good idea today. Rain check?” A sandy blonde eyebrow lifts into his hairline.

 

“Rain check,” Rosy says with a self-assured smile.

 

“So, why is my favourite young lady not getting her beauty rest then?” Marvel persists as he reaches behind him to grab the lime green Lacoste polo hanging off the back of his desk chair. For a brief moment, he made her forget all about his half-brother and the fact that his gchat window remains blank.

 

“Just doing some homework,” she lies flawlessly, a trait she inherited from her father. Despite her ability, Marvel doesn’t believe her. Not that that’s a surprise; having shared the womb with his twin sister Glimmer, Marvel was born with a bullshit meter.

 

“Either you're online shopping or you’re wasting a perfectly good night waiting for my brother to call,” Rosy can hear the sneer in his grainy voice without looking up at the scowl prominent on his lips. “You’re too good for him, y’know.”

 

Rosy gives him the best smile she can muster while glancing down at the screen on her phone. Still black.

 

“I’m serious! You’re smart, beautiful, one hell of an athlete...guys probably fall head over heels for you!”

 

“I don’t know. If they did, then...well…”she twirls a strand of her corkscrew curls around her finger, feeling the familiar heat rise into her cheek. “Wouldn’t Noah be all over me too?”

 

“Please,” Marvel huffs, rolling those gorgeous blue eyes of his. Rosy can’t help but notice the way his long, blonde lashes flutter along with the motion. “Noah’s a seventeen year old boy who's dating a girl that clearly is way more interested in that Cato guy than him.”

 

“You’re sounding thirty-five again, Marven…”

 

“Not sorry.” his lips pull up in a smirk. “But seriously, as much as I love Noah - and that’s a lot mind you- you need to stop putting up with his shit and letting yourself be dragged in the mud.”

 

“I’m not being dragged in the mud! What Noah and I have works; we still walk to school together every morning, we have lunch together underneath the stairwell, we go to each other’s practices and walk home together - well on days he's not with Clove…” Rosy relinquishes in one breath, frustration welling in her chest.

 

Since Noah started seriously dating Clove, she’s had to compromise the time spent with her best friend. The walks to school have been less frequent, Rosy spends more lunches alone now than with Noah and those walks home after Ringette practice are with her ten-year old brother, Aidyn. Maybe Marvel is right.

 

The ping of her gchat along with the vibrations of her phone break Rosy from her thoughts. Her eyes shift to the no longer blank screen and see that the little orange clock is now a green bubble next to Noah Odair.

 

Noah: Still up? I really need to talk to someone.

 

Rosy doesn’t hesitate to reply, her fingers flying across her keyboard in replying ‘Yes, I’m here’. It’s a second later that she hears a tap on her bedroom window; Noah’s green eyes staring at her as he points for her to open up the window.

 

“He finally free?” Marvel says, sounding sour as he inspects his nails.

 

“Um...yeah. He's kinda outside my window so I’mma go, I’ll talk to you la-”

 

“Wait, leave the conversation open. Just minimize the window and cover the webcam light with a sticky or something,” Marvel requests. Not one bit does she trust him, especially when a cheshire grin dripping with mischief stretches across his face.

 

“Why?” Rosy narrows her eyes at him, ignoring the tapping on her window. She’s waited this long for him, the least he could do for her is wait too.

 

“Because if Odair is at your window that must mean: a) he's being secretive b) it’s probably a juicy secret if you’re the only one he'd willing to tell.”

 

“How do you know he hasn’t told Finnick?”

 

It’s Marvel’s turn to roll his eyes. “Like I said, he wouldn’t be at your window if he were at home, on the couch having one of those father-son talks of theirs.”

 

“Fine,” Rosy huffs as she minimizes the window and covers the blue light beside the webcam with a piece of masking tape. In addition to all that, she lowers the volume on the computer; just in case Marvel decides he wants to voice an opinion, this way he’ll be practically mute.

 

Toeing across her room, Rosy props up the window and Noah swings one foot in, ducks under the pane of glass and pulls himself through like he’s done this a hundred times before. And he has, he used to sneak out of her room all the time before his curfew, not wanting to disturb her parents. That all seems so long ago now.

 

“God, I can’t believe you’re still awake. I got seriously lucky, didn’t I?” Noah grins that perfect grin of his as the little ruffle of his dense, wavy locks makes her melt faster than chocolate wafers. Damn him, how did she get so lucky?

 

“Rosy? Y’okay?” He asks, head cocked to the side with the tiniest pout jutting out. She was going to explode! How did people watch their crush be completely adorable and survive to see the next day? If only she could wrap her arms around his neck, pull that bottom lip between her teeth and kiss those full lips of his.

 

“F-fine,” she croaks, forcing herself to look away from him in order to collect herself. “What’cha wanna talk about?”

 

The bounce of the bedsprings has her whipping around to stare at Noah in all his length stretch out along her bed like a starfish. With his eyes cast to the ceiling and a gentle sigh parting from his lips, she sits down at the end of her bed. Stroking his leg, Rosy feels him squirm and watches as that thoughtful look on his face disappears.

 

“Everything alright?”

 

He shrugs. “It was…but I’m a big, fat chicken Rosy. We were so close and I just…I bailed!”

 

“So close to what?” She inquires, slowly. Her heart thrashing wildly against her ribcage as her mind has filled in the blank to his answer; she just hopes she’s wrong.

 

“Sex,” he says, not batting an eyelash as her heart jumps into her throat. Sex, on a school night?! Wasn’t that a Friday or Saturday night thing? Especially that comes after a date not dinner with her parents?

 

“So, after dinner we go up to her room to finish up marathoning Game of Thrones. She’s not really that interested in the whole fantasy thing so we ending up making out instead. Clove is such a fucking good kisser, Rosy. It’s like…it’s like she actually wants to kiss me y’know? It’s as if I were a bomb feeling myself be defused.”

 

She didn’t.

 

“Anyways, it felt so good I wanted more. That’s when I realized my body started to move on its own; my hips are rocking into hers, she’s moaning and pawing at my shirt and stuff. So I take it off and we keep going. Clove’s got her lips all over my chest now and her arms around my waist; her fingers playing with the band on my sweats. And I swear, I thought she was gonna stick her hand down them. Imagine how good that would’ve felt, to have her tiny warm hand wrapped around my cock like that…” Noah sighs.

 

Rosy could definitely imagine how nice it would feel to wrap her hand around him, the feel of his entire length slide along her palm. Sporting that gorgeous euphoric smile on his face and those grunts she’s seen him with after he’s pleasured himself. But instead of being for Clove, it’d be for her. She’d make him feel that good.

 

“Instead starts palming me through my pants. I swear, once she got a rhythm going I thought I was gonna lose control. But I didn’t, and that’s where things went south. Because I was laying there, trying to distract myself I couldn’t help but think if this is what my Mom and Dad were like. If it was during a  rendezvous like this that  they well…yeah…” Noah trails off, eyes growing distant.

 

Scooting up the bed, she rests her head on his broad chest. The best thing about the boy laying in her bed is that he is her best friend and she knows how to get the dark storm clouds to blow away. But twirling the tousle of curls at the nape of his neck and running her fingers along his side doesn’t cease clouds. It only brings the tears on faster.

 

“I couldn’t look at her after that, Char. I kept thinking what if I get her pregnant too? I love my Dad and I love everything he’s done for me but I don’t want to fill his shoes as a single parent. I want to make him proud by being the athlete he couldn’t be; show that his sacrifice was worth it,” Noah mumbles as he holds onto Rosy tightly as the tears roll down his cheeks and onto her.

 

“Noah…” Rosy’s voice wavers.

 

“So, I left,” she can hear the synthetic smile pushing its way through. “I bet she hates me now.”

 

“If I were in her place, I wouldn’t hate you!”

 

“But you’re different, Charlotte.” This time she can definitely hear his smile and her name sounds so sweet when he says it. More so than when he first climbed through the window does Rosy have the urge to kiss his lips and jump his bones. “You don’t push nor are you itching to pop your cherry like she is. And I’m doing the best I can to accommodate her needs but…I just can’t. I’m not ready.”

 

“So, you’re not ready. Whatever, Clove’s a twat for not understanding that.” It’s Marvel’s voice that offers its two cents; making both Noah and Rosy jump. Scrambling to the computer, Rosy pulls up the Skype window and peels off the sticky note to see Marvel and Gwen sitting huddled around the webcam.

 

“What the fuck?” Noah says, anger bubbling. “How long have they been there?”

 

“Look, bro, don’t blame Charlotte. It’s not her fault, I asked her to-” Marvel tries to defuse his brother with a wave of his hands in surrender.

 

“Ugh, seriously?” The bedsprings creak as he slides off the mattress. “Marv, do you not understand what private means?”

 

“Technically, you didn’t ask for priv-”

 

“Fucker shut your face, you’re just digging yourself into a deeper hole” Gwen berates her twin as she shoves him out of the webcam’s frame. “Look, Noah, your girlfriend isn’t mad at you. She’s just confused and a little hurt, but you can patch it up. You’re your father’s son, I don’t know how you Odairs’ do it but all you guys need to do is say same magic words and make everything better. It’s fucking annoying.”

 

Jealous tangles itself around every available inch of Rosy as she realizes Gwen is the one to make her brother laugh. She could have been funny, why couldn’t she have been funny?

 

“Why do you sound like you’re thirty-five?” Noah’s says, still laughing, as he sits down in Rosy’s open lap. He’s a little heavy but she doesn’t mind, his sweats are soft.

 

Gwen rolls her eyes and flips him off. “Just don’t worry, okay? Mom kinda told me her story with your Dad....you and I, we aren't impulsive like they were. Marvel on the other hand…”

 

“Fuck off,” he shoves his elbow into his sister’s ribs sending her off the chair and to the ground. The crackling from the laptop screen as Gwen screams mixed with Noah’s boisterous laughter brings a loud rapping to Rosy’s door. With a quick tap of her fingers the speakers mute and the screen shrinks just as Katniss peers her head in.

 

Gray eyes narrow at the pair sitting at the desk. “Charlotte Primrose Mellark your father and brother are already asleep and you are being far too loud. Also, Noah, your father is in the kitchen waiting to take you home.”

 

“How did he know I was here?”

 

“When are you not here?” Katniss raises an eyebrow, nonchalantly. “Now go, before Peeta wakes up and has choice words for you.”

 

Noah disregards being quiet as he trails through the hallway and bounds down the stairs to the kitchen. Leaving Rosy and her mother to the muffled sounds of chatter downstairs.

 

“We weren’t doing anything, Mama. I swear, he just came over to talk. He…had a rough evening,” Rosy says. Though there is nothing to be embarrassed about, she’s had Noah up in her room alone since as long as she can remember, but tonight she can’t look her mother straight in the eye.

 

“Make sure you head to bed soon, you have to be up early too. You wouldn’t want to make both of you late for school,” Katniss kisses her daughter on the crown before leaving the room, a small smile on her lips.

 

Rosy turns back to her computer re-opening Skype for the final time before signing out. As she swivels out of her chair, her eyes catch a glimpse of the bulletin board of photos. He will come and pick her up for school tomorrow, they will have lunch together and laugh like tonight never happened. Like they will always do, they are best friends after all.

 

* * *

 


	21. Father's Day (Finnick, Noah, Cashmere)

Noah can’t remember ever meeting his Abuelo. His Dad has only ever talked to or about his grandparents on his mom’s side.    
  
 _(“You were young, about three, when we went down to Miami for your Bisabuela’s funeral. I don’t think your Abuelo held or even talked to you,” Johanna insists. “That’s not your fault though, it's your Dad's.”)_  
  


He adores his grandparents: they always send him big boxes of goodies at Christmas and on his birthday, talk to him on the phone to see how he's doing, and give him the biggest hugs and kisses when he arrives at their house in Chicago during his Dad’s business trips to Los Angeles.

 

That doesn’t change how sad Noah is about his estranged abuelo and abuela. Especially when his Dad probably misses them very much.   
  
_(“Why?”_  
  
 _“Your Dad loves you more than anything, Noah. He's done everything he can to protect you from the people who could hurt you. It’s just...he thought it should be from your Mum and his dad.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because they’ve hurt him.”)_

 

  
***

  
  


During the plane ride across the continent, Noah has his eight year old brain wrapped around itself contemplating how to get his Dad to talk to his abuelos.    
  
  


_(“How?”_   
  
_His Auntie Jo pulls her bottom lip snug between her teeth as her eyes rolls upwards. She only does this when she’s trying to be delicate. Noah doesn’t like it, he prefers his Aunt’s honesty._   
  
_She sighs in defeat of her language skills. “Your Abuelo disowned your Dad because he couldn’t be the son your Abuelo wanted. And your Mom left, breaking your Dad’s heart ten times over.” )_

But he couldn’t come up with a thing which caused him to inadvertently give himself a headache. Noah could feel tears well up in his eyes and his tummy start to hurt while they were rushing through Arrivals to get their luggage and to the car Caius had sent for them.

  
  


***

 

Arriving at his Mama and Caius’ big house, with their beach for a backyard, his stomach ache subsides a bit, but his head still pounds vigorously. Noah hopes that clawing at the back of his skull will make some of it go away.

 

“Hey, buddy.” His Dad’s voice is calm, soothing even as it floats through the throbbing pain. “Wanna tell me where you’re not feeling well?”

 

He didn’t, though he knew he should.   
  
“Is it just a headache? Or is something else bothering you?”

 

Noah finds identical green eyes upon opening his, soaked in tranquility. “How did you know that?”

 

His dad laughs softly beneath his breath. “Because I’m your Dad. I know everything about you. Plus, Auntie Jo said you were asking about Abuelo before we left.”

 

Oh.   
  
“I’m sorry you don’t get to see him, or Abuela or Tia and Tio. I wish you could but,” his Dad says so quietly Noah has to strain to hear him. Reaching his hand out and placing it onto his dad’s, Noah finds a smile to give before climbing over his Dad's lap, through the car door, and into the house.

 

But you won’t.

  
  


* * *

 

 

  
  


  
“Mama...can I ask you something?” Noah says from beside her on the couch in the living room where her feet tucked under her and a book is splayed in her hands.

 

“Of course, baby, anything,” Cashmere answers, placing her book face down onto the side table.

 

“Do you know what Dad and Abuelo used to do together?” If there is anyone who’s going to know something about his Dad - and not blab about it- it’ll be his mom.

 

However, with her eyes wide downcast, she looks positively stumped. She’s known his Dad for over ten years, they were friends before and friends now, why can’t she think of anything? Didn’t he ever talk about his family? Didn’t she ever ask?

 

“He only told me once. God, I can’t remember. I think they used to watch football games and go finishing together,” his Mom speaks quietly, her fingers driving into her temple as if she’s trying to extract the memory.

 

“That’s no good! We already do that together - well except go fishing,” He explains, getting tired that no one seems to know anything about the Odairs. He needs something unique. Something that’ll make this father’s day extra special; something that’ll make his Dad remember something Abuelo.

 

“Though, I think - and this is a big possibility because I was delirious with pain during your birth - your Dad was telling me this story...about the time he went camping with his family. Him, his dad and your Uncle Sebastian caught fireflies.   
  
God, I wanna say that the look on his face was absolutely euphoric. But that could have also been the look on his face when you were finally born. It was so long ago now, sweetie.”

 

Noah scrambles up onto the sofa and places a big kiss on his mother’s holo cheek before running out of the room. That’s perfect!

 

"Oh wait, Mama, one last thing!"

 

* * *

 

  
The one thing Finnick has never had problems with in regards to Noah is sudden disappearances. Noah’s been stuck to his side since birth, almost, to his chagrin. However, Finnick worked it out that it’s better that Noah be overly attached than running off on his own possibly giving him a heart attack.

 

Since Cashmere and Annie have made permanent appearance in their lives, Noah’s been a little more scarce. A little too scarce for Finnick’s liking, he is only eight years old after all.

 

Thankfully, this has led to four extra pairs of watchful eyes on Noah. So, when the boy goes missing just around bed time in Cashmere’s expansive house Finnick goes to her first. This is her property after all, she'll have better knowledge of where he could have run off to.

 

"Noah? Yeah, he was here about an hour ago. Thought he might have been with you by now. Why?" Cashmere looks up at Finnick with concern after he finds her in the living room reading.

 

"Well, he's not with me. What if someone came into the house and took him? " Finnick pases the room. "He's your son, too! How could you be so irresponsible?!"

 

"First of all, calm yourself, Odair. I am sure he's fine. We would have known if he wasn't, there is security all over the property. Second..."

 

"He's only a boy, what if he's hurt, alone, and scared?! "

 

"Second," Cashmere fumes with impatience. "He might still be in the backyard by the beach with Caius."

 

Lifting herself onto her bare toes, Cashmere floats towards Finnick with a scowl plastered onto her face. She gives him a look, complete with a raised brow and sarcastic eyes, before swaying past him and into the hall.

 

"I am not who I used to be, Finnick," she says as softly as the pads of her feets against the cherrywood floors. "I would never leave our boy. Not again."

 

Finnick follows silently on her haunches as she guides them through the twists and turns of her home, until the enter the family room and push through the french doors revealing a wide balcony facing onto grass, a strip of sand and the vast ocean. Standing along border between sand and beach are Noah and Caius, with their backs to the house.

 

It's late, with the moon rising and the tide threatening to ebb violently over their feet. Yet, he watches on with equal amounts of fear and wonder as his boy fails his arms, animated, while speaking with his stiff stepfather.

 

"When you agreed to start letting him stay with us, I was worried that Noah and Caius wouldn't get along. I thought he might blame Caius for my leaving," Cashmere's words blend seamlessly with the wind that tangles her hair around her face.

 

“He’s not like that.”

 

Those cobalt eyes of hers flicker over to him through the sheet of platinum blonde, deep and dark. “No, but you are.”

 

Finnick side steps and bounds down the spiral staircase from the balcony to the backyard without gracing Cashmere with response. He didn't want to do this now, not with their son barely five feet away.

 

"Daddy," Noah shouts upon hearing Finnick's feet shuffle through the sand. "You weren't supposed to come yet! I told Mama to keep you waiting until I caught some!"

 

"Caught some what?" But Finnick started to put two and two together upon spotting the small net and flashlight in his son’s hands.

 

"Fireflies! Mama told me you went and caught some with Abuelo. So I wanted to catch some for you, but it needed to be a surprise so I needed Caius to come with me. But, I haven't caught any, yet! So, go back inside."

 

"Noah, I told you, fireflies don't-" but Caius is cut short by the boy being picked up and squeezed by his father. So tight, that Noah squirms to relinquish himself from his Dad’s grip.

 

“I couldn’t have asked for a better son if I wanted to,” Finnick mumbles into the boy’s hair before loosening his grip. “Thank you.”

 

Noah frowns. “But I didn’t do anything. There aren’t any stupid fireflies!”

 

“Hey, watch your mouth there young man,” his Mom reprimands as she too joins them by the damp sand, reaching out to run her fingers through the boy's salt soaked hair.

 

"But Mama, they are stup-" Noah squeaks between a yawn, his head falling onto his Dad’s broad shoulder involuntarily.

 

“Shh, baby, we’ll talk about it in the morning.” Cashmere can’t help but to place a short kiss to his still chubby cheeks. “How about Daddy takes you to bed. Maybe you and Caius can try again tomorrow?”

 

Noah’s head bobs in a nod as he hides his face in the crook of Finnick’s neck. The gentle bounce of his Dad’s steps has the boy asleep before they even reach the french doors leading back into the house. When their guests are beyond the doors, Caius turns Cashmere without disrupting the din of their private beach and grasps hold of her. His arms wind tightly as he takes in her natural scent mixed with the ocean air. Never has he been more grateful than now is to be her husband and the father of their twins.

 

  
***

Noah wakes briefly from the the jostling of clothes and bedsheets being turned down in Marvel’s bedroom,Cashmere suggested her boys try bonding. “Daddy?”

  
“Yes, buddy?”

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t catch any fireflies for you and Abuelo.” The boy rubs his eyes with one hand and cuddles up with his teddy bear with the other.

  
“That’s okay.”

 

“I’m sorry Abuelo hurt you.” A beat. “An’ Mama too.” Finding his Dad’s fingers in his hair, Noah reaches to grasp onto the wrist. “An’ I won’t hurt you, promise. I’ll tell Annie not to hurt you, too.”

 

His Dad’s laugh sounds garbled, so when Noah looks over to see the prickling shine in his Dad’s eyes he reaches out to pull the man closer to him. “Daddy, are you crying? I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

 

“No no, I’m not sad.” Finnick touches a kiss to his boy’s forehead as he wraps his arms around his pint size body. Still so very small, he can’t help but wish Noah will stay this way forever. “I’m happy, very happy. Thank you for just being you.”

 

“I still don’t ge-” Noah let out a yawn. Curling into his Dad’s side, his fingers staying firmly grasped around his Dad, Noah finds himself falling back to sleep to the soothing strokes of hands through his hair.

  
Maybe it’s okay that he never met his abuelo, or that his Dad never talks about him. Maybe it doesn’t matter as long as they have each other.

 

 


End file.
